


FeS2: Add-Ons

by Shivani



Series: Pyrite [2]
Category: Death Note, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, God Game, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Naruto, Supernatural
Genre: Dimension Travel, Gen, M/M, Master of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivani/pseuds/Shivani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of add-ons to <em>FeS<sub>2</sub></em>, with the continuing adventures of Harry and Tom in other worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kuroshitsuji

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : _FeS 2_, Kuroshitsuji, _Kidorui_ , Death Note, Supernatural, Skyrim, Naruto, Harry Potter, _Kalpa_ , God Game, _Yvara_... and more?
> 
>  **Warnings** : slash, severe canon mangling, some episodes are utter crack (but there’s always room for absurdity in life)
> 
>  **Pairings** : Harry/Voldemort, obviously. Chapters are technically gen-fic, for the most part.
> 
>  **Beta** : —
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also applies to whatever worlds they end up in. So: Yana Tobosco; Akira Amano; Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata; Eric Cripke, Warner Brothers; Bethesda Softworks; Masashi Kishimoto; and Andrew Greeley.
> 
>  **Notes** : For the love of fluffy kittens everywhere, read _FeS 2_ first, in its entirety. All of this happens post- _FeS 2_ (not necessarily including the Epilogue). Episodes range from fairly short to normal length for a “chapter” (so 5k or longer).
> 
> Massive spoilers for any world they drop into, obviously. Each oneshot (so far) has used the pattern of Derek explaining the situation before sending them off, so of course he has to spoil the hell out of things for Harry and Tom to understand why they would want to get involved. So, if a world is unfamiliar to you, don’t complain that I, you know, spoiled shit.
> 
> Chronologically, the _Kalpa_ episode is the first actual instance of meddling, but it was placed as number eight so that it would be posted after the chapters it intersects are posted. It is the origin of the “Viator” face Tom uses here and there.

## 01 Kuroshitsuji

13062015

“My morning sun is the drug that brings me near, to the childhood I lost, replaced by fear.” — New Order, _True Faith_

* * *

Derek fiddled around with a screen on the wall and it was shortly thereafter Harry observed an image of a young boy with dark hair—almost more blue than black—wearing an eye-patch, though his hair covered most of it up. His one visible eye was a stunning shade of blue.

Derek produced a laser pointer out of nowhere and used it to point at the writing down one side of the image. “The boy’s name is Ciel Phantomhive. He is presently Earl Phantomhive after the murders of his parents, and a whole host of other events. He is known as the Queen’s Watchdog. She often sent members of the Phantomhive family out to take care of criminals and shady members of the underworld. The year is 1888, and the boy will turn twelve on the fourteenth of December.”

He nodded. “So what’s so special about him?”

“Ah, he is an anomaly. In his world there is no such thing as magic as you know it. There are angels, reapers, and demons, and all of them have powers, but humans do not. The most they can generally do is make a Faustian Contract with a demon, but that results in, after the terms of the contract have been fulfilled, having their soul consumed by the demon.”

“Like a dementor?” Tom asked.

“Similar, yes,” Derek said, moving the laser point a bit lower. “Ciel’s parents were murdered and their manor burnt down. Ciel was kidnapped and sold as a slave, and eventually ended up in the hands of a cult that intended to use him as a sacrifice in a ritual. Ciel unintentionally summoned a demon when he was first stabbed, and the demon who appeared asked the boy if he would like to make a contract. Ciel agreed. The problem arose when I came to realize that this particular Ciel is the equivalent of a muggle-born and should not exist as such.”

“So you want to—” He broke off, not actually be sure what he thought or wished to say.

“Remove him from that situation entirely and transport him to Ophiuchus.”

He raised a brow at Derek and shot a look at Tom to see his reaction. His partner looked intrigued, actually. “Has the kid even managed to get at whoever murdered his parents?”

“No, fortunately. But perhaps he might be persuaded to leave all of that behind and come to a new life, learn about magic. He certainly can’t do it there.”

“What of the contract?” Tom asked.

“You could easily enough break it. Simply getting him to agree and bringing him here would break it. The placement of the mark of the pact was incredibly painful for the child, but the pain of removal would be lost during the transition.”

“So the demon would have no way to follow him here and cause problems?”

“Correct. I don’t particularly think we’d want a sentient soul-sucking demon on Ophiuchus,” Derek said, then added, “You two are quite enough as it is.”

Harry laughed when Tom’s expression twisted into a scowl. “Well, if nothing else, I suppose we could check the situation out. See how much trouble it would be to make off with the boy’s wealth and convert it to pure gold. See how receptive the boy would be. How exactly does that contract mark affect things?”

“Ah.” Derek changed the image to show a split screen. One side held the boy’s right eye, uncovered and showing the mark, while the other side showed the back of someone’s hand—the demon’s, presumably—showing a very similar mark. “The marks are like a chain, of sorts, linking the two. The boy’s allows him control over the demon within the boundaries of the contract, and allows him to signal the demon that he needs him. The mark allows the demon to locate the boy anywhere, so he can go to him, either because he wants to or because the boy signals him.”

“And can we hide the boy from the demon?” Tom asked. “Keep him out of the way for this talk?”

Derek nodded. “The demon is inordinately fond of cats, so you could use one as a distraction, but the boy is allergic to them. You could persuade the boy to order the demon away for the duration. Or you could set up a barrier through me, though that might cause the boy to be overly suspicious.”

Tom looked at him and nodded. “I don’t see why we can’t go look.”

“All right, then.”

‘So, all right,’ he sent. ‘The kid has a ton of money we can exchange for gold bullion. Just nip in, steal all of it, and nip back out to—I dunno—multiple other banks for the exchange. Or just steal an appropriate amount of bullion and covert it on the other side, and forget about his actual money.’

‘Fine,’ Tom sent back. ‘Let’s go see the child, now. Though I wonder. . . .’

‘Eh?’

‘If he’s an Earl, I wonder just how much of a pain he’s going to be.’

He snorted. ‘I think we can be intimidating without sending the kid into a full-on panic attack. Now, let’s go get some props with that money we stole, before heading to the estate.’

Tom smirked at him and nodded.

After a side trip they arrived at Phantomhive Manor. Derek had helpfully passed on several mental images for their holiday that they might need, so they had not needed to do something like hire a carriage. Harry gave the bell-pull a tug and waited patiently for the door to be answered. A dashing man with ink black hair, red eyes, and pale skin opened the door. He was above average height by several inches. He looked positively demonic, even smiling so pleasantly.

“May I help you?”

Harry smiled back. “We seek an audience with the Earl Phantomhive. We are Yuki and Tom Viator—from Japan.”

When the man went to open his mouth Harry heard Tom warn him in his head, then did his best not to react when the expected stampede of cats went rushing by behind them. The man—presumably the demon—got a starry-eyed look on his face and called back over his shoulder, “Tanaka!” Then he swiftly edged past them and raced off after the cats.

‘That worked better than I expected,’ Tom commented as a grey-haired man rushed up to the still open door and greeted them. Not long after that they were being shown to seats in a receiving room. The young Earl was there, wearing expensive clothing, but to Harry’s eyes it all seemed like ridiculously poncy finery.

“Why have you sought an audience?” Phantomhive demanded after Tanaka poured tea around and quietly departed.

‘He’s adorable,’ Harry sent.

‘But he’s also spoiled and utterly helpless in some ways,’ Tom objected. ‘Though his faults are mitigated in some respects by the events he suffered through.’

“We have a proposition for you,” Harry said slowly, not entirely sure how to go on now that he was seated with the boy. “You are—different.”

Ciel looked as though he wanted to snort at that statement, but was too dignified to do so.

“No, not that.”

Ciel frowned slightly and started to reach up toward his face. Tom quickly immobilized the child with barely a hint of wand ever coming into play. And indeed, the boy’s eyes had been on Harry anyway.

“There’s no need to call in your pet demon, Earl,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. “Unless, of course, you wish to sneeze your way into an early death? He is presently chasing a few dozen cats right now, probably squeezing any he catches with an excess of adoration.” He released the child and was pleased to see that hand drop. “As I was saying, you’re different, and it has nothing to do with your Faustian Pact. You are an anomaly in this universe.”

Ciel scowled at him for the perceived insult. “Who are you?”

“Yuki Viator, also Yuki Fuse, also Harry Potter. Not from this dimension. I and my companion are wizards. We do magic. Not that stuff your pet demon does. You have the ability to do magic, Earl. Your ability is an anomaly in this dimension. No other version of you in a magic-less dimension has the ability, though some in those with it do, some don’t.”

“Why so many names? Are you some criminal?”

“You keep avoiding the obvious,” he said sadly. “I am a dimension traveler. It makes sense to have multiple names. Would you like to see a demonstration of magic?”

“Pulling a rabbit out of a hat is hardly going to impress me,” Ciel said snottily.

‘Does he honestly think he froze of his own accord?’ Tom asked disbelievingly.

‘I’ve never done a muggle-born first contact, or even fished an example out of someone’s head, like Minnie’s, so I have no idea what we should be expecting. Suppose I should have checked with Flitwick before we left,’ he replied, then said, “Oh, nothing so mundane. Tell me, what is your favorite animal?”

Ciel’s visible eye narrowed in thought and suspicion. “The wooly mammoth,” he said smugly.

“All right,” he said easily. “It won’t be the proper size, of course, not in a room this small.” He brought his wand out and first levitated the tea tray off to a side table, then transfigured the coffee table into an animated wooly mammoth at about ten percent of average size, approximately a third of a meter high. It paraded around on the carpet, its trunk swishing around, and investigated its surroundings.

“I misspoke myself,” the boy said. “I meant to say a dog. A very particular dog.”

Harry smirked and stared at the Ciel intently for a few seconds, then flicked his wand again.

Ciel’s visible eye went wide at the sight of the dog he had named his pet demon after. “I—”

He chuckled quietly and flicked his wand a third time. The dog turned into a dove and began to fly around the room. Thankfully, the ceilings were quite high. But eventually Harry returned the coffee table back to its original form and levitated the tea set back onto it. “That is one branch of magic, known as Transfiguration. There’s also Charms, Offense, and Defense. Potions, Herbology, Ancient Runes, and so on. I feel compelled to ask you, Earl Phantomhive, what purpose is there in your . . . quest? To have your soul eaten by a demon? All so you can avenge your parents or get back at those who kidnapped you?”

The change of expression was curious and calculating.

‘I’m having flashbacks to Draco now,’ he commented, ‘except this one seems a whole lot more intelligent, driven, and resourceful.’

‘Yes, he’s very Slytherin,’ Tom replied, sounding almost interested.

“I . . . have never once thought to avenge my parents or anything of the sort. Were I to avenge them, the dead would still not come back to life . . . much less to enjoy the sweet taste of revenge. Calling it ‘vengeance’ or a ‘battle of revenge’ is just glossing over the truth. Such utterances amount to nothing more than the selfishness of the survivors, after all . . . a luxury of living, wouldn’t you say? I . . . did not return to Phantomhive for the sake of the previous head. I returned for myself. All I want is to give those who betrayed and defiled the name of Phantomhive . . . a taste of the humiliation . . . and pain . . . that I suffered.”

“At least you’re honest,” he said, nodding. “So again, say you accomplish that. You get eaten. End of story. The span of your life mostly wasted, when it could be so much more. You could live, learn, grow, mature, bring your family’s name back to prominence, even if not here. Isn’t the best revenge in living well? In rising above the people who keep trying to drag you down? Not just going for some goal that, once met, leaves you hollow inside, and then stuck in an unending torment?”

“What would you know?” Ciel said spitefully.

Harry was so amused at the defensive behavior that he got up, moved over, picked Ciel up and squeezed him in tender, fluffy hug, set him back down, and returned to his seat, in all of a few seconds. The boy made like a guppy with the opening and closing of his mouth in reaction.

“My life is not your life. My sorrows and regrets and suffering—none of those are yours. We can’t compare them like different horses.” He had almost said broom models, but the boy would be mystified by the reference. “It’s apples to oranges. Both fruit, but so very different.”

Ciel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve already sold my soul.”

“Ah, but that is not a given,” he shot back. “I can get you out of that contract if you’re willing to come with us. We can bring the equivalent of your fortune in gold bullion, so you would not be without that comfort. You could start a new life, away from all of this insanity. True, your title would be meaningless and your wealth would mean little while in school, but wealth speaks a language all its own in the end, as does personal ability. We can correct some of the problems you currently deal with, such as the asthma. You wouldn’t have to remain . . . delicate . . . if you chose otherwise.”

Ciel slumped in his chair, good posture forgotten, and transformed into an angsty pre-teen in seconds. “I was so focused at that moment. I wanted them all to die for what they were doing. No one was coming to save me. And then Sebastian showed up and offered me the deal. He killed them for me. He’s protected me since then, killed again for me.”

Harry nodded, his expression serious. He tried to think of how to respond, but Tom did it for him.

“Harry saved me,” Tom said, catching Ciel’s attention. “I was a homicidal maniac who cared nothing for others, who delighted in their suffering and pain and deaths, all in retaliation for the way people abused me, mocked me, twisted me. He made me stop and think. Made me see the consequences of my actions. Made me see that there was more to life than anger and bitterness, or revenge. We’ve been partners for years now. Together we created a new world where no humans had ever before set foot. Started over. We gathered up people like us and gave them a new home, where they could live without fear of the non-magicals, and learn magic, as is their birthright, and go about their lives. This life, right now, doesn’t have to be the one you live and die. You can start over, if you dare.”

Harry honestly felt a bit weepy over that speech.

‘Don’t even go there,’ Tom said sternly in his head.

“. . .You can really get me out of the contract?” Ciel asked, his voice thin and so very young-sounding.

“Yes. It would require you coming with us. The contract would no longer be in force and the demon could not follow. He would have to find someone else to make a meal of.”

“What about the people who murdered my parents? Who took me, sold me?”

“We can take care of them, but it would have to be after you were moved. If we did so now, the contract would end and the demon would be free to consume your soul. If you can trust us enough to decide to take us up on our offer, then please trust that we will come back here and take care of the rest. That I promise you, if that is what you’d like to happen. I have no qualms killing people who deserve it.”

Ciel eyed him for long seconds. “How did you even know about me?”

Harry grinned, a bit psychotically. “I am known as the Master of Death, which means, amongst other things, I have a close and personal relationship with Death. Death, amusingly enough, occasionally likes to meddle in the various dimensions, generally when he finds someone of interest. It was Death who alerted us to you, to your situation. No one capable of magic should be left, all alone, without anyone of their own kind, never having the chance to explore and develop their birthright. We agreed to come assess the situation, and take you back with us if you were agreeable.”

“Death?” Ciel said skeptically.

“Oh yes. Death is. Until a day when every last living thing on every world in every dimension is dead, Death is. But when it comes to meddling, well, he needs a physical agent. So he brings things to my attention, Tom and I discuss them, and we decide if we’d like to meddle. In one dimension I saved an alternate version of myself, actually. It was a little weird seeing how differently I can turn out, depending on the circumstances and stimuli. You can meet Death if you like, but I shouldn’t like to send you into a panic attack or anything.”

“Death personified?” Ciel said, still skeptical.

“Mm-hm. He’s not a physical entity, not really, but no one ever said the personification of a concept had to be.”

Ciel’s eye narrowed again. “Are you?”

“I hugged you, didn’t I?” Harry reminded the boy. “Would you like time to think about our offer? We can always return later. Though I would ask, on your honor, that you not speak of this to anyone, or write it down, while you consider.”

“And if I did want time? Where would I contact you?”

“Eh, the Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria. A message to the desk there would get to us.”

“Are there—are there people like me? I mean, people who investigate things? Go after criminals?”

He nodded. “There are different roles, but yes. Those who patrol, those who we refer to as desk jockeys, those who investigate, those who deal with forensics. Your basic roles for law enforcement. We as magicals have some advantages, of course. We have truth potions, for one thing. I can’t say that we have much in the way of criminals just yet, but I’m sure that someone at some point will turn psychotic and we’ll have to consider something more than just the usual jail cells.”

Ciel blinked. “You don’t have prisons?”

“Not yet.” He shrugged. “It would be very interesting to have someone from a non-magical background in one of those roles. That would bring something to it, I think.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “Wizards get so used to being able to do so much that they sometimes let common sense fall by the wayside. I think you could really add something there, if that’s what you decided to be.”

Ciel nodded, his gaze going distant. “I’ll go,” he said after several minutes of silence. His voice was thin and reedy, but determined.

Tom looked over and nodded, got up, and vanished.

Ciel blinked and looked at Harry. “Where did he go?”

“He went to get the equivalent of your fortune in gold bullion. That will be far easier to convert to the coins we use. We use a system based on the size and value of each coin type, rather than something like there being one hundred pence to a pound. It’s a little odd, but you get used to it quickly enough. He should only be gone a few minutes.”

“So little time?”

“Well, I admit, we’re cheating a bit,” he said. “We checked to see how much money you had and, while we could just take that and exchange all of it properly, that much money at once would cause questions, and suspicions, and delays. So he’s simplifying things. He’ll just take the money and place it where the gold bullion is. An equivalent exchange. There’s absolutely no point in taking notes, only pure metal.”

Ciel didn’t seem too disturbed by that knowledge, which was just as well. Harry supposed he could tell the child right then about the various races he could expect to encounter, but. . . . No, he preferred to present that after the boy was free of the pact and in a new home. Then Harry could start by lending the child a house-elf to be his caretaker and servant (after impressing upon him the importance of his responsibility toward the elf in return for the service and loyalty), moving on after that had sunk in to goblins and veela and so on. Not necessarily nice of him, but he wanted the move to be a done deal first, to get the child where he ought to be, with his own kind.

Tom flicked into view a short time later and nodded. “We’re set.”

“Are you ready?” Harry asked the boy.

Ciel got up and nodded nervously.

Harry smiled and went over to take his hand, while Tom took his other hand. He glanced up out of habit. ‘Derek?’

‘Initiating transport.’

He heard the barest hint of a whimper of pain from Ciel, and then they were standing in K’veer. “Ah, okay,” he said, then looked at Ciel, who had an amazed look on his face. “Welcome to our home, K’veer. This is my personal sitting room, actually. So, the first question is, would you prefer to live on your own in a townhouse, with a host family—my friend Luna might be good for that, maybe—or we can set you up with a room here for now. Though for school you would live there during the week. Students are allowed to return home at the weekend so long as they’ve behaved themselves and turned in all their work.”

“And you can remove the eye-patch,” Tom added. “Your eye is normal again.”

Ciel reached up and slowly slipped the patch free, then looked into a hand mirror Tom raised up in front of him. His eyes went wet at the sight of his face, at his clear blue eyes, both of them. Harry pulled the kid into a loose hug and was surprised and pleased when Ciel didn’t fight him. “How about we set you up with a room here for now, hm?”

Ciel nodded against his chest.

“Okay. Now, I’m going to call in a servant, and I need you to not be too shocked. We’re magical, remember, so our servants are not human. They’re a race of sentient creatures called house-elves.”

Ciel stepped back a little so he could look up at him with a puzzled frown.

“They are very kind to those who treat them well, and extremely loyal to their masters. They can do just about anything, really. Tom and I have quite a number of them, but that’s both because we wanted to bring as many as possible with us, and because we needed help at first with things like setting up farms and delineating properties, that sort of thing. They cook, clean, and basically can take the place of a number of separate human servants. You ready?”

Ciel bit his lip, then nodded.

“Saen,” he called, then smiled when the elf popped in. “Hey. This is Ciel Phantomhive. Ciel, this is Saen, one of my two personal house-elves. The other is Cael.”

“Saen is pleased to meet Mr Phantomhive.”

Ciel nodded back, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Saen, I need you to set up a suite for our new friend here. Close to my quarters, all right? I’d like him to be able to get to me quickly if he needs to. I’ll see about getting him outfitted and all that. We didn’t actually bring anything except his fortune, so. . . .”

“Saen will do so immediately, master,” Saen said brightly, then popped out.

“Not too weird?” he asked Ciel.

“Ah, no?”

“Well, magic itself is a bit weird, really. Just try to roll with it. But if you get overwhelmed by anything, say so. Stop me, tell me, and we’ll take a break, have some tea or something.”

Tom handed over a satchel, which Harry took, and said, “I’m going to go relax. It was very unsettling being in a world with no magic.”

He nodded. “All right.”

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ Tom sent as he departed.

‘Well, that allows for almost anything,’ he teased back, chuckling. “So, while Saen is taking care of getting a suite ready, why don’t we sit down and talk. Or, we can go for a walk and you can see what it looks like outside.”

“A walk,” Ciel said quietly.

“Sure.” He set the satchel down and led the way, not minding in the least when Ciel took his hand. Harry led Ciel down to the ground floor and outside. K’veer was on the outskirts of the city, so it wasn’t as though they stepped straight out onto a busy street. The boy was able to see it coming up and have a chance to get used to it. Seeing people fly by, or use magic, or apparate or link in or out—so many wonders as they approached. “How about some shopping, then? You’ll be needing a new wardrobe, if nothing else.”

“I suppose so,” Ciel said, eyeing the various forms of dress on display. Not everyone wore robes, some wore a combination of styles, with robes worn as an over-layer, and some wore only robes.

“I would suggest that even if you are not especially fond of robes that you still get a selection to wear over other clothes,” Harry advised. “You will need to wear a set during schooling, partly because school robes are treated to help protect you.”

“When will I begin that?” Ciel asked as Harry steered him off toward one of the clothiers catering to those of school age.

“Well, that depends. Normally you would start training when you’re eleven. You would have been almost a year older than many just by virtue of the month you were born in. I can bring in tutors until the beginning of the next school year, to catch you up and so that you have individualized attention to start out with. The issue is complicated further by two issues. One is that the school year starts on the first of September. It is presently April.”

“What?” Ciel threw a started look at him.

“Yes, confusing. The time streams often don’t match up. You were in 1888. The current year here is 1996, by our old calendar.” He smiled at the bewilderment the boy was showing, his aristocratic mask far from present. “That means your birthday has shifted from December to September. Still late enough that you’d be a year older than most. So, tutors. If you’re willing to work hard we can get you caught up in time for the next school year and you can join the second years. We have plenty of people with tutoring experience; not all of them have full schedules at the academy.”

“How much will that cost?”

Harry shook his head as he opened the door to the shop. “Education is free. Taxes help fund the school and the hospital, along with donations. Don’t worry about the cost. The more donations come in the lower the taxes for the next year. They’re set to be adjusted yearly based on how much is required to keep the three main aspects functioning and the people working for them paid. That way anyone can always seek out medical attention without having to pay a fee at that time, and the same for education. Higher education is a little different, but that depends on what you’re looking to advance in.”

He greeted the shopkeep and gestured toward Ciel. “My charge here will require a full wardrobe. The only thing mandatory will be three school robes. Beyond that, whatever he wants, his choices on colours and all that. Go wild, Ciel. I never gave you a chance to pack, so this is on me.”

Ciel gave him a sharp, assessing look, then nodded and turned his attention toward the proprietor. An hour later the two were on their way with a promise that the entire order would be delivered as soon as it was ready, and with Ciel wearing a lightweight set of day robes over his current clothing.

They next stopped in at a variety of shops to place orders for Ciel’s schooling, and then wandered over to Corvus Academy after Harry sent a patronus on ahead to request a meeting. Flitwick sent one back almost immediately inviting them to join him as soon as they were able.

“So,” Flitwick said jovially. “Who is our new friend?”

“Headmaster,” Harry greeted. “This is Ciel Phantomhive. He’ll be twelve on the fourteenth of September. Muggle-born, actually.”

Flitwick arched a brow at the information. “Tutors?”

“That’s what I’d like to arrange. Ciel, this is Headmaster Flitwick. He is a wonderful educator and also a fantastic dueler. Speaking of which, Tom and I need to have another one. I can’t wait until your kin get the arena construction done. It’s just not a priority yet,” he said a bit sadly.

“Well, do let me know when. You know how much I enjoy watching. Now, tutors for Mr Phantomhive. Let me see. . . .” He skittered back to his desk and popped up onto his chair so he could fetch papers to shuffle through. A short time later Flitwick had a proposed list and would be checking with those people. He would send confirmation as soon as he had it.

Harry thanked him and led Ciel away. Outside the boy said, hesitantly, “Is the headmaster entirely. . . ?”

“Human?” Harry said. “No. He’s part goblin. Goblins are another race. Short, a bit rough looking, I suppose. Very good with money, warding, and building. They run the bank for us and do a lot of construction work. You’ll see them later, when we go open an account for you. For now, we have two choices. We can either go to the hospital and make sure you’re doing well, maybe take care of that asthma, or if you’re feeling tired we can return to K’veer and get you set up in your suite.”

“I’m tired.”

“All right. Time for a quick lesson, then,” Harry said cheerfully. “I’m going to show you how to use linking books.” He walked over to the nearest linking pedestal and gestured. “Using one of these will take you to a place called Nexus. Watch the image for a few moments so you recognize it in the future, then go ahead and touch it. I’ll be right behind you.”

Ciel did as requested and Harry linked in after the boy did. “Now. This is the Nexus. You’ll note that there are innumerable alcoves and pedestals. You can spend time later looking at all of them, but for now, we go this way.” He led Ciel to the north alcove with respect to the arrival point. “You’ll notice that in here there’s a plate above each book with the name. We want the one for K’veer. It will drop us right outside, and saves us the long walk back.”

Ciel investigated and found the correct book, then linked through. Harry followed him. “There are other ways to travel, but you’re too young to apparate on your own, and we don’t allow floo access at K’veer.” He explained what that meant on the way back upstairs. Saen popped into view as soon as they were back on the correct floor and led the rest of the way, then asked if either was hungry.

Shortly thereafter they were ensconced back in Harry’s suite, which was just down the hall from Ciel’s, and tucking into a meal. The boy had nothing to complain about when it came to house-elf cooking; he looked inordinately pleased by everything he tried, actually. Harry filled the hours until it was time for Ciel to sleep with explanations regarding the magical world, and was pleased to see the child’s imperious behavior from before melt away to reveal excitement and an eagerness to learn.

They could visit the hospital and the bank the next day. And if Ciel needed some reassurance and comfort during the night, well, Harry was happy enough to provide it.


	2. Kidorui

## 02 Katekyo Hitman Reborn

17062015

“There's a new game we like to play, you see, a game with added reality.” — Depeche Mode, _Master and Servant_

* * *

Derek fiddled around with a screen on the wall and it was shortly thereafter that Harry observed an image of a woman with brown hair and eyes, Japanese if he was not mistaken. “Sawada Nana,” Derek said, “wife of Sawada Iemitsu, a member of the mafia, and mother of Sawada Tsunayoshi, incipient tenth mafia boss of the Vongola Famiglia.”

Harry scratched the side of his face in mild confusion. She looked tiny, harmless, and more than a little oblivious.

“She has no clue that her husband and son are involved in the mafia. For some reason, she has accepted her husband’s story that he’s involved in construction or digging for oil and continues to be very much in love with him, despite that he’s almost never home.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “She’s going to be targeted?”

Derek nodded, using his laser pointer to indicate some of the text on the side of the image. “A criminal has set up shop nearby and will be having his minions attack certain specific civilians, even though his target is Tsunayoshi and his group, to lure them into position to be defeated and either killed or possessed. During these events Nana will be targeted, even though she was not actually on the list.”

The image changed to show two bald, grey-skinned men with deformed faces and, oddly enough, wearing green school uniforms. “One of these two will go after the mother as an opportunistic target. They are supposed to go after two girls friendly with Tsunayoshi. They are brutal serial killers.”

The image changed again, this time to show the two moving around. Harry’s stomach actually lurched and he aimed a grimace at Tom. The two killers squirmed and flailed around like some bizarre undersea creature best left at depths beyond the reach of mankind.

“And the effect on the boy or husband should the mother die?” Tom asked, his own expression being one of marked distaste.

“The husband would be devastated, but overall fine. As much as those two seem to be in love, it is in many ways a fantasy, based on the memory of what they began with rather than what they actually share at present. The son, however, would edge into your territory.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Harry complained.

Derek snorted softly. “The boy would go from being extremely reluctant to take on the role of Vongola Decimo to eager, for all the wrong reasons.”

“Eh, there are right reasons to be in the mafia?” he asked.

Derek somehow conveyed that he was rolling his eyes under that hood of his. “The Vongola Famiglia was originally a vigilante group created to protect the people. Unfortunately, the Vongola Secondo turned things toward violence and crime, which is part of why the boy is so reluctant. The influence of the famiglia is worldwide and they are the largest and strongest.”

“All right,” Tom said with a hint of impatience. “You want us to ensure that Sawada Nana survives the attempt, preferably unharmed, or is never in danger to begin with.”

“More or less. It would be detrimental for the boy to crack. He has the temperament to bring the Vongola back to its origins and thereby prevent all sorts of disadvantageous mayhem.”

Harry stared at the unsettling image as he tried to imagine how he could conceivably handle the situation. “Do these two have to survive?”

Derek shook his head. “They are incidental in the long run.”

“Any other factors we should be aware of before we hash out a game plan?”

“Ah, possibly, yes. There is another you in this location—called Namimori, by the way. He has recently moved there to start over, along with Neville and Luna. He opened a bakery.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have thought a me would bake for a living,” he said in bemusement. “Is this a magic me or. . . ?”

“Magic, yes. And more, but I’ll let you find that out for yourself, should you decide to get nosy.”

They arrived well in advance of the action, mainly so that the two of them could have an actual holiday. He was in his Yuki disguise, and Tom was wearing his Viator face. The bakery Derek had mentioned turned out to be called Kidorui, which Yuki thought was strange until he caught a glimpse of that world’s Harry and brazenly rifled through the younger man’s mind.

‘So, this one calls himself Mori Hari.’

‘That seems in some way significant,’ Tom replied as they sauntered on into the bakery and started browsing the selection.

‘Oh yes. For one, Hari’s animagus form is a hedgehog, which explains the first name. The family name because he has that Dying Will Flames thing going on, Earth primary and Forest secondary, in addition to his magic. He went through a lot of changes once he defeated his dark lord and the unlocking of the flames was one thing.’

‘Let me guess,’ Tom sent with a touch of exasperation, ‘strange things began happening around him, so he fled the country, hoping to avoid being labeled as the next dark lord.’

Yuki snickered and selected a half dozen cannoli, while Tom predictably went for cherry Bakewell tarts, with hot chocolate for both of them.

Neville nodded and said, “Will there be anything else?”

Yuki shook his head. “No, no. To eat here, please.”

Neville busied himself with getting their order ready and Yuki watched as Hari emerged from what he presumed was the baking area long enough to whisper to Neville, “Both are first-time customers.”

Shortly thereafter they were seated at one of the tables—apparently first-time customers got some kind of discount on their order—and conversing in D’ni. The bakery itself showed a strong influence from Luna. Out of all the people in the UK only Neville (Kuma) and Luna (Tsuki) had fled with Hari, and Yuki was actually pleased that Luna was nowhere in evidence. If she was anything like his Luna. . . .

The floor was an encompassing mosaic of various stones. Jade, serpentine, turquoise, hematite, and more—all varieties of green and blue and brown against a pale background, to depict a massive tree. The walls were painted as a continuation of the floor design, and so very obviously Luna’s work.

«So, here’s the breakdown,» he said. «This Harry is nominally connected to the mafia because he was targeted for an experiment when he was all of twelve by one of the famiglias. Long story short, he found out after he arrived here that he has a five year old son, one Lambo Bovino.»

Tom arched a brow in understated surprise. «You are a singularity, I swear, in any dimension.»

Yuki pouted and busied himself with biting the end off one of his cannoli and glorying in its perfection before speaking again. «Anyway, he’s been made aware of the mafia, whether he likes it or not, and I suspect, given what I saw in his mind, that he’ll go a bit psychotic, at least for a little while.»

«And this son of his?»

«The boy’s mafia family more or less discarded him once they saw he was not a realization of the goals of their experiment. He’d been told that a hitman here had killed his father, so he ran away from home to come here and assassinate the fellow. But, he bumped into Hari and things escalated from there into Hari taking custody. The boy is nominally friends with our target’s son, and adores the target.»

Tom nodded and demolished another tart. «He cooks as well as you do.»

Yuki smiled, then looked toward the door as it opened. A small boy in a cow costume tumbled in and made a bee-line for the back, squealing the whole time. Hari emerged and swept the kid up.

“Lambo, what have I told you about running inside the shop?” Hari scolded gently.

The child’s extraordinarily green eyes watered, and he reached up to pull a little sculpture from his odd afro, knocking his bull horns askew, then offered it to Hari. “Lambo-san made this for you.”

Hari accepted the misshapen little thing and smiled, giving the child a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I will put it on display so everyone can see how clever you are. But that does not answer my question.”

Green eyes watered again. “Not to run?”

Hari nodded. “You know what this means.”

Lambo looked to Yuki as if he was about to burst into tears, but the child sniffled and composed himself. “Extra writing practice tonight.”

“Right. And I’m going to comb out your hair again. How you keep managing to get it to look like that is beyond me. It’s like magic.”

Neville snickered and quickly pretended to be checking the stock.

“But Lambo-san likes to store things in there!” the child protested.

Hari arched a brow and Lambo wilted a little. “You are much more handsome with your hair combed out.”

Lambo preened and planted a sloppy kiss on Hari’s cheek.

‘The fluff is killing me,’ Tom complained, taking a long sip from his hot chocolate.

‘Eh, I think it’s hilarious, but I don’t know that I could manage it.’

‘Pfft. You do wonderfully with Ciel. That boy looks up to you as a father, or big brother.’

Yuki rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m the personable one, I know.’

“So, let’s get you washed up,” Hari said, “some grapes for a snack, and then you can help me make some sweets. I’m sure Nana-san wouldn’t mind a thank you gift.”

Lambo squealed happily. “Lambo-san has the best father in the whole world!”

Hari chuckled and carried the boy into the back, a fond smile on his face.

While tossing ideas back and forth for how to handle the Bloody Twins, as they were called, the two of them went shopping. Tom had nipped into a bank in Tokyo to steal a goodly sum of money, so they were set for that, at least. Tom sighed in exasperation when Yuki bought up half a store’s worth of manga and light novels, though the Japanese cook books did not garner the same reaction.

“Dango is really tasty,” Yuki chirped. “I’ll have to try making some myself, but I don’t know if we grow the right kind of rice back home. Hm.”

Tom looked skyward for a moment. “Right. We can always acquire what we need before returning. I’m sure the workers can figure out how to grow the stuff. And then when we get enough people from this country they can manage it from there.”

“Glorious!” he said happily. ‘We do have all those Japanese house-elves, so we’ll get supplies and let them deal with it to start.’

Lambo went skittering by, squealing loudly, being chased by a small Chinese girl. For some odd reason, the girl’s forehead had symbols on it that reminded Yuki of Mahjong tiles. She was shrieking something incoherent as she latched onto Lambo; then she exploded.

Once the dust settled down Yuki could see an unharmed girl, with a decidedly worse-for-wear Lambo, sitting at the center of a small crater in the road.

‘These people are weird,’ he commented, then pouted when Tom just laughed at him.

‘He’s your biological son, what do you expect?’

‘I expect him to be chaos incarnate, actually,’ he replied, eyeing the two children as they got up and ran off in the direction of the Sawada house. “Well, time to do more shopping,” he declared and bounced off toward another shop.

Sawada Nana had just left the local grocers and was on her way home, burdened by several bags of food. But, given that she was having to feed a small army of children, it was not so surprising to see her buy so much food. Good thing her husband’s job paid so well.

A couple of streets away one of the Bloody Twins had noticed her and paused to take advantage of the situation. Tom was stalking the other Twin; Yuki had already written up the deaths, and it was just a matter of witnessing them unfold. There was something about the way they moved that had prompted one idea. For the other, something the Japanese loved.

Tom narrated the events of the first death to him, having already promised to share a memory. ‘The street here is fairly wet after that “unexpected” heavy rainstorm and there’s a good amount of water running along the sides and into the drains. The target is “eeling” toward my position—yes, there they are. Electric eels just slithered out of the sewer system and are both pretending to be boa constrictors and electrocuting the target. He’s shaking like a leaf in high wind and unable to rip free of them. Curiously—’

Yuki smirked at the tone of that word.

‘—there are no civilians anywhere near the water, but plenty of them watching in shock and disbelief. He’s down, no longer breathing. The eels have slithered back into a nearby drain.’

‘Glorious,’ he sent back. ‘I’m at the agreed-upon spot.’

‘I’ll be there in a moment.’ Tom appeared seconds later from around a corner, having used his pseudo-Cloak’s power and shifting to relocate efficiently. He held out a muggle soft drink to Yuki, as if he had just come from a shop.

Yuki took it and opened it, and took a sip, humming appreciatively. The rainstorm had washed everything clean and the area they were in sparkled in the emergent sunlight. It was a lovely day.

Just then a teen in a school uniform hastened by pushing a hand cart packed with small boxes. Nana came around the corner on her way home and crossed paths briefly with the student, who tripped, lost control of the cart, and face-planted. The cart rolled away with higher velocity due to the accidental push it had been given, and crashed into a lamp post, which groaned and started to topple. Apparently there was some unresolved instability in the fixture.

All the boxes on the cart flew into the air and landed around the Twin, causing him to pause long enough to not get hit by any of them, but in doing so missed noticing the pole’s descent. It crashed straight onto his head, caving it in and driving him to the ground. When the scene was examined later it would be revealed that the boxes contained corn flakes, intended for the student fund-raising booth trying to entice people to try certain aspects of American breakfast culture.

“Mwua ha ha,” Yuki muttered, then had some more of his drink.

Nana, of course, was long gone, having witnessed nothing, and was completely unharmed.

When they got back to Ophiuchus Derek popped in again, which was a bit surprising. “Master, due to the adjustment in that timeline, something of interest is going to happen.”

His brow went up questioningly.

“Your counterpart there is going to fall in love,” Derek said, causing the screen to appear with an image on it.

Tom burst out laughing. “There’s obviously a catch here, because I can’t believe any Harry would fall in love with a child! Not even one so stylishly dressed.”

Harry scowled.

Derek grinned under his hood, seeming to take far too much amusement in the situation. “Ah, well, the man in question is actually under a curse. His birth name is Renato Sinclair, but he goes by Reborn now. He and your counterpart will become a romantic couple, albeit somewhat awkwardly due to the circumstances.”

“Right,” he said a bit testily. “How do we come in again?”

“Everything will work out in the end in the sense that Reborn’s curse will be lifted. However, while that will allow him to age normally again, it will not revert him to his adult form. I’m asking if you’d like to meddle again when the time comes, to help Reborn, so that the two of them can, er, properly express themselves.”

Tom snorted and turned away, waving a hand around.

He sighed and nodded. “Yes. Of course I’d like to meddle. Why don’t you fill us in on the interim events?”


	3. Death Note

## 03 Death Note

17062015-18062015

“Dear God, hope you got the letter and, I pray you can make it better down here.” — XTC, _Dear God_

* * *

Derek did his usual screen and laser pointer routine, but this time two faces appeared. One was a young man with light brown hair, brown eyes, and taller than the average Japanese male. The other was a young lady with longish blonde hair and light brown eyes, and shorter than average.

“Yagami Raito and Amane Misa, both holders of a Death Note,” Derek said with a hint of distaste. “There are two insertion points for this one, should you chose to go. The first would be on or before 25 May 2004, when Amane first meets Yagami in person at his family’s home. The second would be 24 October when, after having previously relinquished ownership of her Death Note, Amane is reunited with Shinigami Rem, and not long before it all goes to hell.”

“Is it just taking these two out and spanking some Shinigami?” Harry asked. “Or is there someone we’d be saving in the process?”

Derek nodded and the screen image switched to two new faces. “L Lawliet and Quillsh Wammy. They both have multiple names, but for our purposes they go by L and Watari. L is the foremost detective in the world, easily solving cases, and has been doing so since a fairly young age. While not irreplaceable, the world would mourn his loss as a force of justice.

“Should the two human Death Note holders not be stopped, these two will most certainly die. That is in addition to the many, many others, who already have or will. Unfortunately, unlike you, master, Yagami and Amane do not have the temperament, maturity, or experience to handle that kind of power. Yagami slowly but surely loses most of his humanity and sends the world into a type of dark ages police state, and Amane is not much more than a puppet for Yagami.

“Her family was killed in front of her about a year prior to ‘current’ events, and Yagami, as Kira, killed the man in question after he was acquitted. Amane came into possession of a Death Note after she was attacked by a stalker and saved by a Shinigami who fell in love with her. That Death Note was collected by Shinigami Rem and given to Amane. Amane made a deal for Shinigami Eyes so that she could meet and thank Kira.”

“Hold up,” Tom said. “Shinigami Eyes?”

“Yes. My various reapers are able to see the true names of anyone they look at, as well as their lifespans. A mortal holder of a Death Note can trade half their remaining lifespan for a version of that power, though they will be unable to see the lifespan of a fellow Death Note holder. They also cannot interpret anything other than a name, as the encoding for the lifespan is beyond their understanding.”

“Have I been able to do something like that all this time and it’s just never come up?” Harry asked.

Derek smirked. “I may have forgotten to mention that detail.”

He shrugged. “Eh, it’s not like I’ve ever needed it in the past. But for shits and giggles, how do I activate them?”

Several minutes later Derek got back to his little PowerPoint presentation. “Now. Should you be seen by either Kira, they would only be able to see your true names, and not your lifespans. That would mark you, to them, as Death Note holders, and either as people to be killed or brought in as accomplices. Only Amane made the trade, though.”

Harry started laughing in delight. “Oh, this could be a lot of fun. For one thing, I can change my ‘true name’ as often as I want. Okay, what do these Shinigami look like?”

Tom made an unhappy noise at the new images. “That is disgusting.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “What’s up with that, Derek? Why are they so icky?”

“They aren’t human,” Derek said. “You can’t hold them to human standards of beauty. And besides, Shinigami are forbidden to engage in sexual activities, either with each other or with humans. They do have a full range of emotion, though.”

“Damn,” Harry said quietly. “And I thought I was a sadist.”

“Yes, well, Shinigami Gelus fell in love with her, and sacrificed his life so that she would live. It is forbidden for Shinigami to purposely extend the life of a mortal. The Death Note Amane holds came from Gelus by way of Rem, and by giving it to her, Rem is attached to her in the same way Shinigami Ryuk is attached to Yagami.”

“But would they potentially mistake us for Shinigami?” Tom asked. “Despite having a human appearance?”

“Possibly. They have only seen Ryuk and Rem.”

“But I would imagine those two would know better,” Harry said, “and warn them. How much effective control do I have over the Shinigami?”

“I would prefer you leave the majority of them alone, but these two you can do what you want with. They have to answer to you as Master of Death. If you choose you can order them to play along with any deception and never even so much as hint at otherwise.”

“All right. How much control do I have, if any, over the non-deaths of mortals?”

“You can temporarily extend protection over L and Watari, though it would be more amusing should you not need to resort to that option. Your partner here is a very special exception, after all.”

“Okay,” he said briskly. “Time to hash out some ideas.”

After a great deal of discussion they finally made the transfer to the Japan in question, on 24 October 2004, after Rem had made contact with Amane. Because she had not touched or regained control of an actual Death Note Amane could not actually remember any of the events that Rem spoke to her of, but it was a decent enough starting point for Yuki and Tom.

Amane went to bed, leaving Rem to amuse herself. Yuki used what he knew from Derek to summon the Shinigami to him, in a park not far from the investigation team’s headquarters. Rem was more than a little shocked that anyone had such power, not to mention that she was presented with two humans.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, which sent Yuki off into gales of laughter.

“How adorable,” he said. “Listen up, cupcake. You might have to answer to the ‘King’ of the Shinigami, but even he sits below me in the hierarchy. I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t have any lifespan revealed to your pretty eyes. But hey, since I can tell you think I’m cracked, I’ll do this: sit!”

Rem found herself sitting on the grass a second later, an expression of surprise on her face.

“I can make you dance like a dodgy marionette, cupcake, so I suggest you don’t try my patience. Unless, that is, you really were planning to die in the next few minutes. Now, tell me why you made contact with Amane Misa. She relinquished the Death Note you gave her at your urging and has no memories of that period.”

“She is my responsibility.”

Yuki shook his head. “No, no. What you should have done was return to the Shinigami realm along with both Death Notes, yours and Gelus’s. You stuck around, and I already know you view most humans with contempt. Explain.”

Rem heaved a sigh. “In order to protect Misa, as I had assured Yagami that I would kill him if he placed her life in danger or attempted to kill her using his Death Note, I did as he asked and found someone greedy, forceful, and selfish to give Yagami’s Death Note to after he relinquished it. Misa joined the investigation and was helping by using her alleged status as the second Kira to get Higuchi to admit to being Kira.

“Unfortunately, Higuchi decided that, as she was a threat, having in all likelihood known the original Kira and the detective L, she would have to be dealt with. His plan for that was to get her to marry him, take out a large life insurance policy on her, and then kill her using the Death Note when she was no longer useful to him.”

“So you used part of a Death Note to get her to be able to see you again,” he said, keeping an eye on her thoughts to see if she would try to lie to him.

“Yes, with a small piece of paper I tore from Higuchi’s Death Note. She would have to touch one of the book covers to get her memories back. I explained a few things to her to help her with the investigation, giving her a hint as to which member of the Yotsuba Group was the present Kira.”

“I see. Why you persist in this affection for a mortal is beyond me, but I see. Well, let me tell you something, cupcake. I am extending my personal protection over the mortals you know as L and Watari. That means none of you Shinigami can kill either of them, not even in defense of Amane’s life.”

‘Understood, master,’ Derek chimed in.

“You know as well as I do what’ll happen if you do, because no matter what fantastical justifications you dream up in your head at this point, it’ll still boil down to her defense.”

Rem looked upset and her thoughts echoed that perception. “But I can still subtly lead toward Higuchi getting caught.”

“Of course,” he allowed. “That would still depend on the mortals actually managing to handle the situation. Though,” he said, idly tapping the side of his face with a finger, “I should probably mention that I have every intention of seeing Yagami and Amane die for their parts in all this.”

Rem launched up off the ground in outrage and went for her Death Note, then froze, realizing the inherent trap.

“I don’t recall saying it was all right for you to stand up again,” he said coldly. “Sit.”

Rem hit the ground again before she realized what happened.

“Yagami is turning into a sanguinary psycho with a marked lack of empathy, compassion, or even the ability to see the consequences of his actions, and is more than willing to sacrifice Amane and his own family members to keep himself safe. Amane is little more than a starry-eyed, lovesick pawn, thrilled for the most part to kill whoever Yagami wants dead if by doing so it would take the heat off him. Higuchi is even worse, amazingly enough, which is why I’m allowing you to make those subtle hints for the mortals to pick up on and capitalize on.

“How you act during all this will tell me just how Amane should die, either peacefully or horrifically.” He stopped for a moment, eyeing her intently, then sighed. “You still don’t really believe. Well. . . .” After a quick exchange of thought with Derek he took Tom’s hand and then gestured for Rem to stand up, then grabbed her hand as well. Then he shifted them straight into the Shinigami realm and released Rem.

“How did—?” Rem went silent as she considered the implications.

“Would you like me to summon every Shinigami here and have them act out Romeo and Juliet? Because I can do that if you’re bored. I’m sure your ‘king’ would make for a lovely Juliet, or perhaps an unimportant background character. Or are you satisfied that I have power over you more than just ordering you to sit like a damn dog?”

“Yes. I believe you now, much as I wish I did not have to. But I should not stay here.”

“True,” he allowed, and took her hand again before shifting them back. “So, go on and drop your subtle hints or make your reasoned arguments to Higuchi, but take no direct action against anyone. And I suggest you be circumspect when it comes to giving out true information about the Death Notes.”

Rem nodded and, after a pause when Yuki said nothing more, floated away.

Yuki shifted himself and Tom to the hotel room they had rented and then flopped onto the bed. “I really didn’t want to have to extend protection over those two, but I didn’t see how to get around it.”

Tom shrugged and sat down next to him. “It’s only temporary. Amane wouldn’t even be involved if Gelus hadn’t interfered, though I suppose I can conceive of how love would make someone act that way. It was still compounded by Rem giving his Death Note to the girl which, given that her parents’ murderer had been killed and her stalker died during his attempt, why Rem felt it necessary to hand it over. . . . I do rather wonder just how long her lifespan is considering that a Shinigami gave up the remainder of his to her, even if she traded for the eyes.”

Yuki perked up a little. “I’ll have to check. I still plan to kill her, of course, but it’s an interesting question.”

“You could always consider making a few changes to the rules,” Tom suggested.

“Oh? What were you thinking of?” he said, and rolled over onto his side so he could prop his head up on one hand.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to completely ruin the fun of such bored Shinigami, but perhaps something such as. . . . If a Death Note dropped into the human world is not reclaimed within a certain period of time, then the human holder and the Shinigami who last held it would be destroyed, and the Death Note returned to the king.”

“Hm. What do you think, Derek? I think that sounds interesting.”

Derek shadowed into the room and said thoughtfully, “Well, it is a compromise. It should prevent a situation such as Yagami Raito from happening again. But I would say, perhaps, destruction of the mortal human only if they had used the Death Note.”

Yuki sat up and nodded slightly. “Yeah. Just picking it up and investigating it shouldn’t be a death penalty. Nor should attempting to destroy it. I’m a bit iffy on whether or not if they use it just a single time, though.”

“Many would be curious,” Tom said. “I most likely would have tested one, though probably abandoned it in favor of a more personal approach. And, according to the rules we’ve seen, a mortal human who uses one cannot go to Heaven or Hell, so they’re being punished either way. Many don’t believe in such places, but I suppose they’ll find out the truth after death. If a mortal claims a Death Note, uses it once to test it or out of skepticism, then abandons it or tries to destroy it, then I see no reason why they couldn’t live out the remainder of their life.”

“I don’t think that’s too unreasonable,” Yuki agreed. “As you said, they’ll be punished either way. The associated Shinigami doesn’t have to appear straight away, and even if they did, nothing forces them to be entirely forthcoming about all of the rules or consequences.”

“How long?” Derek asked.

Tom pursed his lips and eyed Yuki, then said, “Yagami had killed dozens and in a mere week. An extreme example, perhaps, but let’s say . . . a month?”

Derek cocked his head to one side, then nodded. “Still sounds reasonable. It maintains free will to an acceptable extent, but still punishes those who would toy with Death Notes.”

“If you like the idea, I’m all for it,” Yuki said. “If someone is foolish enough to test one, realize it really does work and maybe even remembers this time period and the outcome, and still keeps using it, well, they deserve what they get. The only other option I can think of is for a mortal human using a Death Note to get a free ride for the first name, but thereafter loses a set amount off their lifespan for each valid name. The Shinigami who allowed it to happen and didn’t reclaim the book within a certain time frame should still be punished, though.”

“How many can be active at once?” Tom asked.

“Six. If more were to be dropped to the human world only the first six would function, but should one be reclaimed or destroyed, the next in line would activate for the holder. I think I prefer the first idea. True, with the second the mortal in question could write themselves into death in a matter of minutes, but that doesn’t seem quite as satisfying.”

Yuki shrugged. “I might disagree if Yagami had targeted someone I gave a damn about, but that’s a bit impossible considering we’re not even from the same dimension. It’s up to you, Derek. Actually, that does spark a question, though I expect I already know the answer. Can these books cross dimensions?”

Derek stared for a minute, then shook his head. “No. Yagami could not target a Yamada Taro of this dimension and actually kill someone in a different dimension because he was unaware that our example had died already.”

He nodded. “Just checking.”

“I will contemplate this proposed rule change and implement it after this event is concluded,” Derek said, then shadowed away.

“So basically,” Yuki said, “we watch this play out for a bit. I’d prefer both of them have claimed a Death Note before I do much, so that they have all their memories. No sense tormenting someone who can’t remember the deeds in question.”

Several days later Rem had maneuvered Higuchi into exposing himself to the plan concocted by L, Yagami, and Amane. The Death Note was retrieved and Raito got his hands on it while L was floored by the experience of having witnessed with his own eyes the sight of a Shinigami. Raito immediately, after recovering from having regained his memories, produced a piece of paper from a Death Note from a hidden compartment in his watch and killed Higuchi, thereby reclaiming the Death Note. He was, again, Kira.

A look into Yagami’s mind confirmed all that Yuki had already been told. The guy was a psychopath, worse even than Tom, with miniscule potential to choose otherwise. L was forced to officially release Amane; and Yagami, while escorting her from the building, whispered to her to go to a specific location to retrieve a lost item. Amane looked elated and rushed off shortly thereafter to do his bidding.

She retrieved the Death Note presently attached to Ryuk and read the letter inside left by Yagami, but was distressed to realize that she could no longer remember L’s true name, not after so much time and with having seen so very many names. She opted to trade for Shinigami Eyes again.

‘Rem would most likely not have made that trade a second time,’ Tom commented as they observed, safely hidden from Ryuk’s eyes.

‘I agree. She’s been trying to keep the girl alive, after all. Halving her lifespan again would be counterproductive. Speaking of which, the girl doesn’t have all that much time left anyway. Gelus was apparently too depressed to do much in the way of extending his own life. She’s lucky if she has a decade remaining at this point, which is a damn shame for someone so young.’

‘So she’s going to wait for a signal from Yagami, and she’ll move to eliminate L, and then Watari.’

‘Yes.’

‘So let’s go. Best to have a front row seat for the entertainment.’

For the purposes of the amusement he fashioned a fake Death Note and hung it off his belt with a strap. It would, however briefly, serve to confuse the people involved, especially with it worn so openly. They turned back so they could witness Yagami’s reaction to events and arrived, hidden by the power of Yuki’s Cloak, to see L questioning Rem regarding the Death Note.

Rem did not especially wish to assist any of them and kept giving unhelpful or vague answers.

‘This L has an amazingly structured mind,’ Tom said admiringly. ‘For a muggle to achieve this is incredible.’

‘Oh yes. It’s like a damn computer in there, all neatly-filed facts, statistics, percentages, and whiteboards with disparate information gathered together to see links.’

After rather a lot of discussion and questioning of a reluctant Rem, L finally offered up the suggestion that as it would be extremely unlikely that due process could properly convict Kira, they would probably have to force Kira to write their own name in the Death Note.

Rem, at that point, got the weirdest expression on her face, one of realization and frustration. It was then, after Yagami cast a significant look at the Shinigami, that Yuki decided to join the party. He revealed himself and Tom, smirking as Rem’s eyes widened, then giggled quietly.

Everyone spun around to see who had made the noise, then gaped at having been sneaked up on like that. Both L and Yagami noticed the fake book almost instantly. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Yagami demanded.

In contrast, L reached over to check the camera feeds and was subsequently surprised when they revealed that the two had simply phased into view.

“You young people are adorable,” Yuki said.

“Who are you?” Yagami repeated. “How did you obtain that book?”

Yuki grabbed his fake book and waved it around, then tossed it onto the nearest desk. “Have at it.”

Yagami immediately reached over to run his fingers over the cover, then frowned when no Shinigami appeared in response. L did the same, but without the frown. No, he had an intense look on his face that bespoke rapid calculation.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? That one’s a fake. My idea of a joke. Hello, Rem, lovely to see you again. Been having fun with the little people?”

Rem scowled and looked off to the side.

“As to who I am, you may call me Fuse Yuki. My companion may be called Fuse Ango.”

‘Cipher?’ Tom said. ‘All right.’

“Called?” L said. “Then those are not your real names.”

“They are, actually, in a certain sense,” Yuki replied. “That is my name while I’m in this form. Rem can confirm that.”

Rem glanced over long enough to nod her agreement. “This is accurate.”

Yagami desperately wanted to test that statement out, but could see no way to do so without bringing open suspicion back down on his head. And Rem was not acting as he expected her to with the threat to Amane’s life; she was not killing L or Watari. Yuki smirked on pulling away from Yagami’s mind.

“How is it you do not have an accompanying Shinigami?” L asked.

Yuki grinned a bit psychotically. “Well now, that’s probably because I’m not one of you adorable little mortals, and I hold the original Death Note, the one that spawned all those used by the Shinigami.”

“And your companion?” L asked, sending a swift look at Tom.

“Oh, he’s not mortal, either,” he said cheerfully. “You can think of him as my partner in crime. We get into all sorts of trouble together. Meddling is such wonderful entertainment. But I’m afraid this tragic comedy you people have going on is fast coming to a close. You see, a few people have recently pissed me off and I plan to make sure they get what’s coming to them.”

Yagami scoffed. Disbelief warred with fear.

“So, consider this fair warning. Some of you have very little time left. Make what you will of it. Entertain us, why don’t you.” He laughed and Cloaked himself and Tom, smiling at the gasps of surprise that erupted from the men in the room.

‘Laying it on a bit thick, are we?’

‘Eh, why not? It’s fun!’

Tom reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The room erupted into discordant babbling, but L and Yagami stayed quiet, obviously thinking hard. There was a brief lull when the fake Death Note fell apart into sparkles of light, but it began again anew.

Yagami finally faced Rem. “Those were their real names?”

Rem shrugged. “Yes.”

“I am going to test the thirteen day rule,” L announced, which caused yet more babbling and arguments, and Rem to look agonizingly frustrated.

A phone call came in on Yagami’s mobile and everyone was able to hear Amane say, her voice loud in her enthusiasm, “Misa did it!”

“You got that new role?” Yagami said quickly. “I know how much you’ve been wanting it. We’ll have to celebrate later.”

“But—”

“You deserve it,” Yagami said, cutting her off. “We’ve had some developments here, though, so I can’t talk right now. Come by tomorrow and we’ll make plans.” He broke the connection and put his phone away.

L stared at him sidelong for several moments, then repeated his earlier assertion.

Yuki and Tom left them to it, but he did tag several parts of their headquarters with listening charms, as well as Yagami and L.

The next day Amane showed up at HQ, and she and Yagami went off to “celebrate” her new role. Anyone with any sense could figure out what he had meant by that, but as both had officially been cleared—at least in the eyes of the investigation team—L could not overtly hinder either of them.

Yuki and Tom followed the duo. Yagami was sifting through plan after plan after plan in response to the evening previous. “I just don’t understand why it didn’t work,” he muttered.

“Misa did what you wanted,” she assured him. “Misa got the eyes back and remembered she had a picture of L on her phone, so she used that to be sure of his name. Misa wrote it in the book, took several pages from it, and buried it again like you said.”

“I have to somehow get you into a position where you can see those two men.”

“Huh?” she said. “What men? What do you mean?”

Yagami looked around casually, looking for eavesdroppers. Considering they were in a park that was, at present, rather empty, he did not look too concerned. But even Yuki was aware of technology that would allow people to hear anything they said from a distance.

He led her over to a bench under a tree and took a seat, letting his head drop a bit so that it would be harder for any observers to read his lips. Amane happily sat next to him. “Two men appeared last night,” he said quietly, not much above a whisper. “The spokesman claimed they were not mortal, and that he held the original Death Note. If you could see them, see their names, you could write their names. I was in no position to get pictures of them. But since you’ve been a part of the investigation team, maybe you could view the footage from the security cameras. L knows there’s a second book out there still, so it might not get connected to you.”

Tom snorted at that. ‘His whole plan was predicated on the idea that Rem would move to save Amane from L’s rightful suspicion, and kill herself in the process. Of course L will find a way to target her again.’

Yuki nodded, even though Tom couldn’t see it. ‘You see anything we need to change, or. . . ?’

‘No. It still looks fine. We let her get that look, one way or another, and she can try, and fail, and then you can write up the circumstances of their deaths. Nice and neat.’

‘Okay!’

Yagami and Amane showed back up at HQ. Amane was bubbly, but also concerned about the strange men Raito had told her about. Was there anything she could do?

L had a faintly knowing look on his face at hearing that, but allowed her to see the footage from the night before. Her eyes went wide, she gasped, and said how happy and relieved she was that none of them present had been harmed. She also thought the two of them were “very handsome”.

‘So he’s curious himself to see if we can be killed that way,’ Tom commented. ‘How cold. It’s perfectly all right if someone else uses a Death Note to kill someone and test his theories, but he won’t do it himself?’

‘Yeah. It doesn’t exactly make me think kindly of L, but whatever. He does at least use the justice system to deal with criminals and hasn’t gone all vigilante on them like Yagami has. All of this is very interesting, though, in light of my status and propensity to off people when motivation strikes.’

‘I’ll return the favor of that threat you once made,’ Tom replied, ‘and bitch slap you into next week if you lose your sense of humor and inherent kindness.’

‘Aw, you’re so sweet.’ He leaned over to give Tom a brief but heartfelt kiss. ‘We’ll keep each other on the crooked and wide, okay?’

‘Of course.’

Amane shook her head at Yagami ever so slightly. A peek told him that she was telling him they had no lifespan indicators, and that Yagami took that to mean they both really were holders of Death Notes, not that they were immortal.

Plans were hashed out regarding L’s insistence on testing the thirteen day rule—he had privately instructed Watari to find a convict on death row to do the test. Should the convict live their sentence would be commuted to life, and if they should die due to the rule, well, they were scheduled to die anyway.

Yagami and Amane went out to dinner that evening at an expensive restaurant. Yuki and Tom arranged to get a table in view of theirs, pretending not to notice they were there, or that L had managed to get watchers in place, as well. Yagami took the bait and prompted Amane, then said, “How about we set something up for later? I know you’ll be busy with that new role, but I’m sure you’ll have time to go out with me again.”

“You won’t be too busy with the investigation?” she asked, getting a day planner from her bag and flipping it open.

“No,” he assured her. “Maybe dinner again, though I suppose we can visit some amusement instead.”

She scanned the pages and said, “Well, Misa is free for sure in two days, all day long! Then Misa will visit her sister, and after that she has to be at the studio.”

Yagami nodded and tapped the page her day planner was open to. “Then hold the day for me, two days from now.”

Amane started writing. “Misa just knows you’ll think of something wonderful,” she said confidently.

Two days later Amane showed up at HQ to meet up with Yagami and make preparations to go off on their date. Yuki chose to appear again at that point, with Tom at his side, delaying their departure. Yagami looked both fearful and anticipatory when he saw them. Rem and Ryuk were both present, but the majority of the people on the investigation team could only see Rem, and she looked resigned. Ryuk, however, looked surprised.

“Hello,” Yuki chirped. “It’s getting really close to that time. Rem, Ryuk,” he greeted, then tossed an apple to Ryuk. The Shinigami caught it, sniffed it warily, then devoured it with glee.

L stiffened at the evidence that there was another Shinigami in the room. Yagami looked angry.

“So. Gotten any closer, L-kun?” he asked kindly. “I mean, I realize you have all these boneheads working on the team, hindering you, refusing to see the evidence right in front of their eyes, but surely you have something.”

Before L could say anything, one of the twitchier men on the team accidentally discharged his weapon and shot Yuki in the heart. Yuki looked down and dug the bullet out with his fingers, and held it up to inspect it, blood dripping everywhere.

Derek chimed in with, ‘I’ll take care that your blood tells them nothing, master.’ He sounded slightly peeved in Yuki’s opinion.

‘Thanks, Derek!’ he sent back happily.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “You get shot far too often.”

He pocketed the bullet and grinned. “Eh, you know how skittish the mortals can be. But I’m perfectly fine. I’m sure it was just an accident,” he said, winking broadly in case anyone was feeling a bit slow on the uptake. “Like I said, getting real close to the _dénouement_ of this tragic little comedy.”

L eyed him seriously. “Is the thirteen day rule even real?”

Yuki grinned again. “L-kun! I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. Or Ryuk’s.” He produced another apple and tossed it over. “You want anything, Rem, or are you not suffering from addiction like Ryuk here is?”

Rem looked away.

Yuki pouted at the refusal. “O~kay!” he chirped. “I think Ango-kun and I are going to head out. I’m sure we’ll see you soon enough.” He clapped in delight at the upcoming deaths and made a squeeing sound.

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you get all that manga.”

He pouted again before Cloaking the two of them.

L sent Yagami and Amane off, ostensibly uninterested in what they were up to. And indeed, despite the major coincidence of someone getting fatally shot, he still had no concrete evidence that Amane had done it, or Yagami.

Back in their hotel room Yuki wrote out the deaths for the two miscreants. It would be a mutual murder pact on their parts, and they would be kind to each other. Yagami because he was forced to, and Amane simply because. They each, before they wrote in each other’s deaths, drafted letters to the investigation team, indicating that they had instructed the Shinigami to retrieve the Death Notes and take them away so that no one else would be caught up with them. A bold lie, of course, but nothing L could ever prove in the end. Yuki would be taking them personally, as well as any bits of paper either had secreted, and would toss them back into the Shinigami realm.

They were found by a couple wandering the park early the next morning and a frantic call went out to the police.

Later on, with Yagami’s father devastated by the evidence that his son had indeed been Kira, and the other team members similarly gutted, saw L and Watari alone in one of the rooms. Yuki and Tom popped back in to say good-bye.

“Now, I’m sure this isn’t quite what you hoped for, L,” he said, “but it was my prerogative, and I chose to have them kill each other and leave behind evidence.”

“But not the books.”

“Of course not.”

“Who are you really?”

He grinned. “The Master of Death, immortal, and nuttier than a squirrel’s winter cache. Death alerted me to the situation here, so we hashed out a plan of action. Ango came up with some modifications to the rules by which Death Notes are handled, so those will go into effect shortly. True, it would still be possible for another Yagami Raito to happen, but they’re being limited to a month before being recalled, should a Shinigami get away with dropping one in the human world to alleviate their boredom.”

“And the thirteen day rule? I believe it to be a fake.”

“It’s fake,” he confirmed. “Yagami asked Ryuk to write that in to sow confusion and direct suspicion off him. Now. You two. I was under no obligation to save your lives, though I did. Amane wrote your name in her Death Note.” He produced it and showed L the actual page, so he could see more than just his own name written there. “Rem would have killed Watari in order to take suspicion off Amane. But, I extended my protection over you two for the duration of this event. Use that benevolence well, because it won’t be extended again. You are breathtakingly intelligent, L, but not infallible, and not above being outsmarted.”

L nodded, a bit reluctantly. “Limited? What happens to those involved?”

Yuki eyed him for several moments. “No, no. I already saved your life. Your continuing curiosity isn’t all that interesting to me. Just know that the Death Notes have been recalled.” He turned his attention to Watari. “As for you. . . .”

Watari looked a bit startled at being singled out.

“You really need to go easier on that heart of yours. Consider training up a replacement so you can enjoy your twilight years, maybe Roger. Take up a hobby or something. You’re British, so gardening, maybe. Stop stressing yourself out so much. Though really, why you like Earl Grey is just incomprehensible. Stuff tastes like cat piss.” He shook his head, leaned against Tom, and shifted them away.


	4. Supernatural

## 04 Supernatural

19062015

“I’m running to battle with the shadow of a lie.” — Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex 2, _Rise_

* * *

The image on the screen was of a single man. He was nondescript, really, aside from the fact that the skin on his face was peeling off rather messily. Harry eyed the screen, then arched a brow at Derek.

“This is Lucifer’s current vessel, a man named Nick he tormented and tricked into becoming his host.”

“Must be a fun guy at parties,” he muttered, frowning. Possession was a touchy subject for him, after all.

Tom, knowing the full story, grimaced.

“Now, as you know, this is a personal matter for me. True, untold numbers of humans would be saved if you agree to this, but really, I’m being selfish here. I really don’t want to give Lucifer the opportunity to bind me in any way, assuming it’d even still work.” Derek frowned under his hood, then seemed to perk up. “But today I have a very special surprise guest joining me,” he said brightly.

“Gods, he’s taking on too much of your personality,” Tom complained.

Derek huffed. “Keep it up and I’ll find a dimension where Lambo-san is missing his Harry Potter father and would fit right in around here.”

Tom shuddered and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Harry snickered quietly. “Okay, you have a guest commentator or something? Should I go get popcorn? Cinnamon imperials? Ooo, candy floss!”

Derek sighed, and threw his hands up, the laser pointing wildly around. “I know, it’s partly my fault. I broke your brain one too many times. Gabriel! Get over here.”

Harry saw something shift in his peripheral vision and looked over to see an average-looking sort of man wander out from behind one of the decorative floor-to-ceiling curtains and go stand to the other side of the screen.

“Master, Tom, this is Archangel Gabriel, also known as the trickster god Loki. Gabriel, the Master of Death and his partner in crime.”

“Trickster god, huh? And archangel? How’s that working out for you?” Harry asked.

“Generally speaking, not so bad.”

“Okay,” Harry chirped. “So. . . .”

“Gabriel is here at my request—”

Gabriel snorted quietly.

“Fine, I kidnapped him,” Derek admitted. “I thought it would be a far more effective demonstration of the reality of this request, as opposed to us doing this the usual way and him laughing himself into a hernia before you could convince him to help. And besides, I wasn’t sure if manifesting there would alert Lucifer to complications with his plan.”

“Which is. . . ? I do vaguely recall you bringing this very situation up back a ways, but I confess I’ve mostly forgotten what you said.”

Derek nodded. “Lucifer was released from his imprisonment due to the destruction of sixty-six of the seals binding him. That triggered the . . . awakening, I guess you could call it . . . of my brothers in that dimension: Famine; War; and Pestilence. Lucifer is presently under the impression that I am bound and plans to raise me and bind me to his will at the same time.”

Harry raised his hand and waved it around wildly.

“Yes, you in the front,” Derek said seriously, pointing at him.

“Eh, would this be in any way related to that bit about me obtaining the Hallows?”

“Yes. As Death, I cannot be destroyed, not unless there is no death. And even then, if life were to begin again, I would return. However, aspects of myself can be bound to some degree, and that did occur in the dimension in question. God liked to pull me off the shelf occasionally so I could cause mass mayhem at his command. You know, like the Great Flood.”

Harry frowned. “Doesn’t sound very nice, and rather disrespectful.”

“You obtaining the Hallows released any aspect of mine that was bound. Should I choose to I could manifest in that dimension unfettered except by your will. So, Lucifer believes I am bound and plans to raise and bind me. The attempt will fail, simply because he’d be using the wrong ritual. However, it would probably clue him in that I’m already around somewhere.”

“He would try a summoning ritual,” Tom said.

“Yes. It occurred to me that we could arrive part way through that ritual, forcing it to abort, and catching him further off guard. Then we kill him.”

“. . .I have to assume there’s some trick to this.”

“Indeed, and this is where Gabriel comes in. One of the very few things which can kill an angel is an Archangel Blade. Lucifer is, naturally, an archangel. But then, so is Gabriel, and he retained his weapon, despite having buggered off to masquerade as a pagan god.”

Harry nodded slowly and exchanged a look with Tom, then said, “Just out of curiosity, what about the sucker who landed the role of world savior, because I know there has to be one. That’s how it works.”

Derek brought his laser pointer to bear on the screen again and it switched to show two young men. “The Winchester brothers, Dean and Sam. Dean is ‘destined’ to be Michael’s vessel and Sam is Lucifer’s. Supposedly accepting those roles will allow the big battle to play out and presumably Michael will win and it’ll be rainbows and kittens again.”

Tom snorted.

“But if we let it get to that point,” Harry said, “countless people will die, and quite possibly all of them.”

“My brothers even now are helping Lucifer to an extent. They don’t particularly like anyone but ourselves. They hold angels, demons, and humans all in the same contempt, or disdain. Killing off scores of them for Lucifer isn’t anything to get fussed about, basically.”

Harry frowned and looked at Derek with some uncertainty. “Did I change anything?”

Derek’s eyes glowed green. “I watched you for a very long time, master, ever since you inherited the Cloak, even though you had not yet touched it. I continued to watch as they came to you one by one, and after, and helped you to start over. I watched you again, until finally you said those words. Yes, you changed things. I was much like my brothers, before.”

A fond smile crept onto his face, then vanished into a gleeful grin. “Gabriel! Do you have any brothers you don’t particularly like?”

Gabriel blinked and stared at him. “Well, yes, but they are family.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean they can’t be utter twats.”

“Well, Uriel has it in for the humans—had, I mean. He’s dead. Zachariah rates high on a scale of ‘torture the human’. He’s been pushing really hard for Dean to agree to be Michael’s vessel. If given the chance he would torture Dean to get what he wants. So, him, I suppose, since Dean is pretty damn stubborn on this issue.”

He nodded and turned to look at Tom, who nodded, obviously having some idea of what he was thinking. “Well. I suppose the first question is this. Derek, can my book affect an angel?”

“Yes.”

“Is it powerful enough to force an Archangel Blade into the hands of someone who would normally never have one?”

“Yes.”

“Or I could just steal an extra,” Gabriel said.

“Wouldn’t that place you in undue danger?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Possibly. But I am tricksy sort of fellow.”

Harry considered that and ultimately shook his head. “I’d rather not risk it. Are you all right with this, though? He is your brother—Lucifer, I mean.”

Gabriel shrugged again. “He is, and I care about him, even now. But I also know a lost cause when I see it.”

“Okay. Let’s hash out a game plan.”

Yuki waited, Cloaked, at the farm Lucifer planned to use for his ritual. For once Tom wasn’t with him. He honestly could not be certain that his partner’s protection would be enough, for Tom was not the Master of Death, and only augmented by proxy. Yuki could not be killed except by Death, and Death would never do that unless he relinquished the Hallows.

Lucifer finally arrived and brought with him a host of people. They all stood around simply staring as Lucifer wielded a shovel and started digging. Eventually Yuki spotted the Winchester brothers creeping up on the action and shot a listening charm over that way.

“Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople,” Dean muttered.

“So,” Sam said roughly.

“Yeah.”

“Any last words?”

There was a long pause before Dean replied, “I think I’m good.” He brought a long-barreled gun into view.

‘The Colt,’ Derek supplied. ‘Created back in the 1800’s by a Samuel Colt. It can kill just about anything, even normally immortal creatures.’

‘Eh?’ he shot back nervously as Dean said, “Here goes nothing.”

‘Do not worry, master. It won’t hurt you any worse than the last gun.’

The Winchesters started to move, splitting up. Sam chambered a round in his gun, causing Lucifer to pause and look back over his shoulder. “You wanted to see me?” Sam said brusquely.

Lucifer stabbed the shovel into the ground and brushed his hands off, turning to face Sam. “Oh, Sam,” he said, gesturing toward the shotgun. “You don’t need that gun here. You know I’d never hurt you. Not really.” He smiled slightly.

Dean sneaked up from out of Lucifer’s range of vision and aimed the Colt at the vessel’s head. “Yeah?” he said. “Well I’d hurt you.” Dean cocked the gun. “So suck it.” He fired straight into Lucifer’s forehead and watched as the body dropped to the ground.

The brothers paused to take in the situation, noticing that the townspeople were still standing there, staring at nothing, and Dean looked back down at Lucifer, who sucked in air harshly. “Owwwwww,” Lucifer complained as he got back up and touched his head. “Where did you get that?” he asked in exasperation.

Dean’s face told a story of frantic thinking. Lucifer’s reply was to haul off and belt him in the face, knocking him a fair distance away to bounce off a tree. “Now,” Lucifer said, and smiled. “Where were we?”

Sam failed to respond verbally, too busy dividing his attention between Lucifer and his brother, so Lucifer said, “Don’t feel too bad, Sam. There’s only five things in all of Creation that gun can’t kill and, I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I’m almost done.” He went back to digging and Sam edged over to check his brother’s pulse.

Lucifer paused again, leaning on his shovel, to ask, “You know, I don’t suppose you’d just say yes, right here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That’s crazy, right?”

Sam popped back up and took a defiant pose. “It’s never gonna happen.”

Lucifer smiled again. “Oh, I don’t know, Sam,” he said, starting to dig again. “I think it will. I think it’ll happen soon. Within six months. And I think it’ll happen in Detroit.”

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Yuki giggled quietly to himself.

“You understand me? I’m going to rip—”

“That’s good, Sam.”

“—your heart out.”

“You keep that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I’m gonna need it.”

Sam looked around at the zombie-like people. “What did you do—what did you do to this town?”

“Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man.”

“. . .And the rest of them?”

Lucifer paused again and pointed at the disturbed earth. “In there. Yeah, I know, it’s awful, but, these Horsemen are so demanding. So it was women and children first. . . . I know what you must think of me, Sam. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.”

Sam looked offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was a son. A brother,” he said, gesturing toward Dean. “Like you. A younger brother. And I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him, and I begged him to stand with me. And Michael . . . Michael turned on me. Called me a freak, a monster. And then he beat me down, all because I was different, because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam, any of this sound familiar? Anyway. . . . You’ll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling, and I have a ritual to finish. Don’t go anywhere. Not that you could if you would.”

Lucifer stood next to the hole he had dug and raised his hands up, and started chanting. Then he turned to face the demon-infested humans. “Now repeat after me.”

Yuki saw Dean finally wake up from his impromptu bashing and start to lift himself up.

“We offer up our lives, blood, souls—”

The townsfolk repeated his words in a monotone.

“—to complete this tribute.”

And again, but bodies began to be hit in the head with some magic as they said the last word and fall to the ground. Lucifer smiled slightly, then looked at Sam, doing a double-take at the man’s expression. “What? They’re just demons.”

He turned back to the hole, which was steadily growing larger as the ground shook. And then—nothing. “What in Hell?” Lucifer muttered. “Is Death already out?”

Dean and Sam went a bit bug-eyed.

Lucifer sighed and and went for the expected secondary: a summoning. What he got was not what he wanted.

Yuki arrived from a writhing mass of shadowy flame, sharply dressed in a blue-green silk kimono with exquisite embroidery. “Yare yare,” he said, borrowing from the older version of his alternate-dimension’s son. “Why does this happen every time I sit down to enjoy some really good yakiniku?” He glanced up at Lucifer and frowned. “Well, Tenshi-san, with whom do I have the dubious pleasure of speaking?”

Lucifer’s brow slowly went up in confusion. The Winchesters were not much better off; and neither was a quietly arriving Castiel. “There is no way you’re Death,” Lucifer stated.

Yuki rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “Oh, Tenshi-san, you’re so damn clever I can barely stand it. What gave me away? Was it my fashion sense? Because I know this really superior place in Tokyo that does custom work.” He fished some Pocky out of his kimono and started nibbling on one.

“Where is Death?” Lucifer demanded.

Yuki eyed him in disbelief. “Death is every—aa, so desu ka. Death is very busy, you know. He can’t be summoned by just anyone. That’s my prerogative. He was pretty happy when I busted him out a ways back.”

Dean brought the Colt up again and shot Yuki in the head. Yuki sighed, glanced up at the sky, and reached up to suck the bullet out of his head with his version of telekinesis. That went into his kimono.

‘Starting a collection, master?’

‘Eh, why not? I get shot often enough, after all.’ He looked over at Dean and said, “That was very rude of you, baka-hanta.”

“Not another one,” Dean groaned.

“We should talk about these anger management issues you seem to be having,” Yuki said seriously. “Most people don’t just shoot first and ask questions later. You act like the supernatural is your own personal shooting gallery.”

“Where is Death?” Lucifer demanded again.

Yuki eyed him and nodded slightly. “Aa, so desu ka. You’re that Lucifer fellow, Tenshi-san. Death mentioned you, but I don’t think I’ll be repeating what he had to say. Not word for word, anyway. So you want Death so you can use him to further your plans. No, no, I don’t think so. You don’t even have a good reason, I expect.”

Lucifer’s expression went from angrily frustrated to smiling and persuasive. “Oh, but I—well. May I know your name?” he asked, his hands twitching slightly.

“You may call me Hogo-sha,” he replied, then started in on another piece of Pocky.

“That is not a name,” Lucifer pointed out genially.

“But it suffices, does it not? My name is unimportant in the face of my role.”

“I know your true name,” Lucifer said, then displayed a horribly confused look on his face as Yuki started cycling between “true” identities at one per second.

“Do you? Honto?” he said, unimpressed, and secretly giggling. “Were you going to play some more, or were you going to explain your very personal and compelling need for Death’s power to me?” He reached for more Pocky and frowned. “Chikusho. Not only am I denied my meal, now I’m out of sweets.”

Lucifer pulled himself together and smiled. “I—”

“Hold that thought,” Yuki said, holding up one finger. A moment later a Reaper appeared holding a tray of dango. Yuki squealed happily and took it, then grabbed the first stick. “Arigato, Shinigami-san.”

“Death’s power will help me to reshape the world,” Lucifer said.

Yuki stared at him intently as he ate, barely keeping the surprise off his face when he realized he could see everything Lucifer was thinking. He let the tray hover next to him and fished out his book and a fountain pen. “Let me see. When does he potentially have free time. . . ?” After flipping through a few pages for show, he looked up and said, “I can put you in for next Tuesday, if you give me some idea of what he’d need to do.” The death itself was already written out and waiting; he just needed to put in the name.

Lucifer grimaced and came to a decision; he planned to accept the offer and see about binding Death then. “Yes, that would be fine.”

Yuki nodded and carefully wrote in Lucifer’s name. A split second later Zachariah teleported in behind Lucifer and stabbed him through the heart with an Archangel Blade, wrenching it around for maximum pain.

Lucifer let out a wet gurgle of agony and slid off the blade, his vessel disintegrating as it dropped. Team Hunter gawked at the sight, and Zachariah blinked in confusion.

“I guess Tenshi-san no longer needs the help of Death,” Harry said briskly and Cloaked himself. A second later the tray of dango disappeared. He wrote Zachariah’s name in next, and the angel promptly tripped while spinning around to confront Team Hunter, and impaled himself on the Archangel Blade.

Yuki laughed, the sound of it echoing around the clearing. “Don’t fuck with Death, people. Freakishly bizarre accidents have a way of happening when you do. Mwua ha ha.”


	5. Skyrim

## 05 Skyrim

20062015

“Look out on a summer’s day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul.” — Don Mclean, _Vincent_

* * *

“Seriously?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” Derek said, pointing his laser at the screen. An old woman was depicted there, dressed in a somewhat roughly-fashioned blue-green dress over an off-white undershift. All of it was well-worn and dirt stained the lower hems. She wore rough-stitched leather boots and her white hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck.

“Why do you want her dead?”

“One of the children presently at Honorhall Orphanage will, should the woman die, be adopted and grow up to be one of the best jarls Skyrim has ever seen. One of the children, an orphan by the name of Aventus Aretino”—the image changed to that of a young boy—“ran away from the orphanage and has been performing the Black Sacrament. This is a signal to the Dark Brotherhood, a guild of assassins, that a contract is being offered.”

“Is Aretino the boy in question?” Tom asked.

Derek shook his head and the image changed again. “This is Hroar, the child I’d like to assist.”

“Okay,” he said. “So, just nip in, whack the old lady, and then Tom and I can take a holiday in a new world.”

“Essentially. You would need new wardrobes for this, though. Whether you want to look prosperous, or something else, is up to you. There are magic users there, and they wear a type of robes.”

“May we see what they look like?” Tom asked.

Derek nodded again and the image changed. Harry eyed it for a while and said, “I actually rather like those.”

“I do, as well,” Tom said. “Cael.”

Cael popped in and bowed.

“Take a look at the clothing on the screen. How hard would it be for one of you to reproduce them for myself and Harry? More masterfully crafted, and with colour changes?”

Cael turned his attention to the screen and skittered closer. Derek obligingly rotated the figure slowly so the house-elf could get a complete look. Cael looked back at Tom and nodded. “Cael can do this easily. Shall Cael make a set for each to see how they work out?”

“Please do,” Tom said.

Cael bowed again and popped out.

Harry smiled at the idea of a change in fashion from the robes standard in the magical world. He liked the way they flapped around behind him like the magical world’s take on a trench coat of sorts, but change was good, too. “Okay,” he said briskly. “Anything else of interest in that world?”

“The usual plethora of races, though some of them are more beastly than you are accustomed to,” Derek said, changing the screen to display smaller images of the various races. “A host of gods who meddle from time to time with the mortals, often leaving artifacts of theirs on the planet for people to find or earn or be cursed with. There’s also a war in progress, between the Empire and the country or province in question, Skyrim.

“The Empire is seated in Cyrodiil, and has nominal control over the provinces on that continent, with certain exceptions. But each still has its own system of government. For Skyrim that entails having jarls for each of the nine holds, plus the High King, which is similar to the duchies of Cyrodiil and the Emperor. The war is nominally over religion, but there are deeper issues and marked instances of racism at work.”

“But how much would that effect us?”

Derek shrugged. “Not much, really. Soldiers for either side leave the civilians alone unless it’s to drum up support or recruits. The only organization you might need to be wary of is the Aldmeri Dominion, governed primarily by a group of Altmer, or High Elves. They will arrest or attack anyone who professes belief in Talos as one of the Divines, and gladly torture. Their people in Skyrim are called the Thalmor and wear distinctive robes or armor.

“For travel options there is walking, riding, or hiring a carriage. Many parts of Skyrim are bitterly cold and suffer frequent blizzards, but that won’t especially be a problem for either of you. No real technology aside from one now extinct or missing race of elves. Either way, all you have to do is Cloak yourselves to avoid any trouble if you’re not interested in getting into fights with bandits, necromancers, vampires, and other miscreants.”

Harry shrugged. “I have to assume their magic isn’t like ours.”

“Well, no,” Derek said, and went on to explain.

Harry patted his new robes down and smiled. They were a lovely charcoal grey and forest green, with decorative stitching and designs in silver. Tom’s were similar. Derek had set them down just outside a place called Merryfair Farm, and supplied them with a map and local currency, called septims after the last Dragonborn line of Emperors in Cyrodiil. It was perhaps eight o’clock in the morning and a lovely day. “It’s rather pretty here,” he said after a look around. “Lots of birches.”

“And spiders,” Tom commented, sending off a spell to kill it.

Derek had assured them that any magic they used would be mistaken for aetherial magic, so they would be free to fight normally. “At least it’s not acromantula,” he replied. “According to the map we just follow the dirt path east to the main road and south to the town.”

Tom nodded and off they went, enjoying just wandering around in a new place, and shortly thereafter the northern gates came into view, with stabling facilities off to the right. Two guards stood to either side of the gates and, as they got close enough, one stepped forward to demand they pay a visitor’s tax.

Tom glared at the man, who backed up quickly and started waving his hands around frantically. “Just a joke! Really. I’ll open the gates for you.”

Once inside the town he noticed that it was . . . quaint. Worse off than Hogsmeade in terms of overall construction and level of cleanliness. But it still had a certain charm. Plenty of people were present, either chatting with each other or roaming, and as they started walking they were stopped by an intimidating fellow—or he would be had he and Tom been any other people, perhaps.

Harry rolled his eyes and sent a quick imperius at the fellow, causing him to ignore them, but a sharp-eyed girl on one of the bridges over the canal eyed them oddly. He skimmed her thoughts and learned that the brutish man was named Maul and worked for one Maven Black-Briar, mead maker, patron of the Thieves Guild, and all around bitch.

Maven had no qualms about making people disappear, and Maul was supposed to make sure any strangers in town knew the score. Maul was a former member of the Thieves Guild, and the girl, Sapphire, was currently one, but the guild was seeing some hard times, which was hilarious to Harry’s mind.

‘What a lovely town,’ Tom commented sarcastically. ‘Let’s find a tavern so we can listen to the local gossip.’

‘Yeah. Eh, I think that building up ahead, past the girl.’ Inside they encountered a bunch of mouthy Nords, some Argonians, and various others. ‘Good thing Derek showed us images of the various races ahead of time, because these Argonians would have startled the hell out of me.’

One of them approached as they found seats and said, “Welcome to the Bee and Barb. Is there something I can get you?”

“What do you have?” Harry asked, and was treated to a listing. After a quick telepathic conversation he said, “Eh, venison steak, garlic bread, and snowberry crostata, for each of us. And two each of those special drinks you mentioned.”

The Argonian nodded and said their order would be ready shortly, then headed off to the counter. He was stopped along the way by a finely-dressed man, who said, “So, Talen. Have you reconsidered my offer?”

“Sorry, Hemming, I’ve no interest in becoming your valet,” Talen said with equal measures of frustration and boredom.

“What’s the matter? I thought your people were used to indentured servitude.”

Talen’s expression changed to something Harry interpreted as a scowl. “Xhuth! Black-Briar or not, say that again and so help me you’re going to need more than your mother to protect you from me.” He stalked off and made it to the counter, conversing quietly with the Argonian female there, then rummaged around in the storage off to the side in the cooking area.

When he returned he had the drinks and set them down carefully. “The total is fifty-four septims.”

Tom handed over the requisite amount and said quietly, “Is that man usually so offensive?”

Talen glanced over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said flatly.

“We’ve heard some interesting things about the Black-Briar name.”

“I wouldn’t get involved with them,” Talen said quietly.

“The Thieves Guild?” Harry said.

“Among other things,” Talen said. “The Thieves Guild—they’re vermin, garbage. They’re exactly what makes this city such a horrible place to live. How appropriate they should live in the Ratway with the rest of the trash.”

Harry’s brow went up. “What’s the Ratway?”

“Disgusting is what it is. Ruined sewers filled with goodness knows what. There’s an entrance down by the canal, but I’d highly advise you stay out of there. I’ll be back shortly with your food,” he said, obviously unwilling to speak more on the topic.

And he was, nearly sliding plates onto their table, giving them a nod, then wandering off again. As they ate Harry could hear him conversing with the female—after he shot a discreet listening charm over that way.

“Keerava we’re running low on Black-Briar Mead.”

Keerava sighed. “If only Maven would stop raising the price on it, maybe I could afford to stock more cases.”

“We could always look for another brand,” Talen suggested.

“That isn’t an option. Maven sees me serve a competitor’s brand here and we may as well dig our own graves. Don’t worry, the time will come when we can walk away from here.”

“I hope so,” Talen replied. “I can’t stand this city anymore.”

“Damn it, Talen. We still don’t have enough this year to get out of Riften.”

‘Eh, this Maven sounds like a piece of work.’

‘The whole family,’ Tom said.

‘I wonder how much of a power vacuum would open up if she and her family should meet with freakishly bizarre accidents.’

Tom smirked. ‘I would say redistribute her wealth to the less fortunate, but if someone like these two here were to suddenly become flush with wealth, people would talk, make accusations. . . .’

Harry shrugged and had a sip of some of Talen’s Velvet Lechance before slicing into his venison again. ‘This stuff is really good. We’ll have to stock up before we return home. Or figure out how to make it.’

‘Oh, please. We both know you’ll just steal the information from his mind.’

Harry grinned. ‘And a whole lot of flora possibly.’

‘So long as Derek says it’s safe to do so.’

He nodded. ‘Excellent point. We can check out Grelod after this.’

‘Do you even want to check on the Aretino boy?’ Tom asked, biting into his bread.

‘I suppose there’s no harm in it,’ he sent after a moment. ‘It’s not like we’re on a schedule or anything. And I suppose I am a little bit curious about this Black Sacrament thing.’ He handed the map over so Tom could look at it, and finished up his venison. He took a bite of the crostata and hummed happily. “Oh, I like this.”

‘Well, let’s finish checking out Riften before we do anything else,’ Tom suggested. ‘We can spend the night here, then head off for Windhelm.’

‘And when we’re ready, we can take care of business and have that holiday,’ Harry agreed.

They ran across Maven in the market; she was eyeing people and wares with equal disdain. Harry took the opportunity to rifle through her mind, and did not particularly like what he saw. ‘Eh, she’s pretty damn bad, actually. And her son Hemming, grandson Sibbi. Only the granddaughter Ingun seems halfway decent.’

Tom looked away from her and pretended to investigate some of the merchandise a Brand-Shei had on offer.

“Make love like a sabre cat or crush your enemies to dust like a giant! Only a mere twenty gold coins and all this could be yours!”

‘Do you want to arrange some accidents, then?’ Tom asked.

“Jewelry with legendary Argonian craftsmanship!”

‘I think I’ll have to check the others before I make that decision. See anything interesting?’ he asked, eyeing the jeweler’s work.

‘No, not really. What about yours?’

“Buy some armor and live to tell about it!”

‘Yes, actually. This fellow seems to know what he’s doing.’ “Excuse me,” he said to the merchant.

“Greetings, honored friend. I am Madesi. Could I interest you in some fine jewelry?”

“Eh, do you take commissions?” he asked, as Tom ghosted on over to his side.

“Learn a library’s worth of knowledge in moments or grow back that missing limb with my Genuine Falmer Blood Elixir!”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder to see who was making such outrageous claims and spotted a red-haired Nord dressed in finery, which was a somewhat odd thing to see on a person hawking goods in a market stall.

“That Brynjolf,” the merchant said with a sigh, drawing Harry’s attention back. “He keeps draining the people’s pockets with his ridiculous miracle cures. A few months ago it was troll fat salve and now he’s got something new. Not that there’s anything that can be done about it. He’s in good with the Thieves Guild.”

He nodded, tucking that information away. ‘Can you go rifle through Brynjolf’s mind and see if there’s anything of interest?’

‘Of course,’ Tom replied, and ghosted off again.

“Commissions?” he repeated.

“Ah, yes. If you can tell me what you’re interested in, I would be happy to create something for you.”

Harry pulled some parchment from his robes and his fountain pen, though he disguised it with illusion to look like a stick of charcoal, and sketched out some rough designs, one for a ring (for Ciel) and one for a necklace (for Luna). He flipped the parchment around and pushed it toward the Madesi.

“Oh my, these are exquisite,” Madesi said admiringly. “What materials?”

“Eh, for the ring, silver with sapphire and moonstone. The necklace, silver, quicksilver, moonstone, and sapphire. If necessary I can bargain for the materials personally to get the best price possible.”

“That would probably lower the actual cost,” Madesi said agreeably. “These would take a couple of weeks to make from the time I had the materials. The cost—”

“Cost isn’t an issue,” he interrupted. “I just care about the craftsmanship. Would you prefer to be paid in septims or ingots?”

Madesi adopted a sort of thoughtful look, then nodded slightly. “Ingots, I think. Actually, if you would just bring twice the required material that would more than suffice, because then I could make other items to sell.”

“Deal. I’ll get back to you as quickly as possible with that,” he said, intending to be very generous, then pocketed the sketches for the time being. The merchant Tom had been investigating had some stuff, but not the quality he was after, despite one of the lines the merchant trotted out to entice customers, so he wandered on over to the blacksmith to see what metals he had for sale.

Tom ghosted on over while he was haggling and sent, ‘He’s one of the higher-ups in the Thieves Guild, but not the top. Still has a fair amount of responsibility. He’s up here keeping an eye out for possible recruits, and to keep an eye on things for Maven.’

He completed the deal and got information about possible gemstone sources, and turned to Tom. ‘Interesting. I can work with that. Balimund here has told me there’s a Khajiit caravan outside town right now. It must have come in while we were eating.’

Shortly thereafter they were back at Madesi’s stall and he was handing over a chest with all the materials and the sketches inside. That it was protected against thievery was a given. “I’ll check back in two weeks.”

“Excellent!”

Visits were made to see Ingun, who was practicing her alchemy down in a shop off the lower level of the canal, Sibbi, which required a visit to the jail, and Hemming, that evening at the Bee and Barb. Harry made up his mind.

They rented a room for the night there and, on a table next to one of the beds, was a book about the Daedric Lords. Harry amused himself with reading it and wondered if he could use the information to his advantage. If he killed Maven he did not particularly want to repeat an earlier “accident”, and the book was giving him ideas as to how he could proceed. Hemming and Sibbi would not be an issue, it was Maven who required effort.

Pinning the blame on Stormcloaks or Imperials or Thalmor was problematical. Perhaps Daedric intervention was just the thing. ‘Derek?’

‘Sheogorath is your best bet, though I expect you’d have to do him some kind of favor as an exchange.’

‘Mm, he’s bugnuts. Sounds fun. How would we get in touch with him?’

‘Through me, of course.’

‘And that would entail. . . ?’

‘Well, at the present time Sheogorath is holidaying in the mind of the deceased Emperor Pelagius III. That would be the best point of contact.’

Harry’s eyed widened. You could do that? Was this Pelagius person haunting his old stomping grounds or was he in Sheogorath’s realm?

‘Haunting,’ Derek said. ‘Only one of you could go in, though.’

He frowned and looked at Tom, who was reading a copy of _A Kiss, Sweet Mother_.

‘If it’s just one of us, so be it,’ Tom commented, without looking up. ‘Against all reason, you happen to be crazier than I am, so it should be you.’

‘Are you sure? I’m still upset at having to leave you behind the last time.’

‘It’s fine. It’s just a short visit, presumably, and you can share the memory with me after the fact. Then we can continue on our holiday, causing mayhem, together.’

‘. . .Okay.’

‘Would you like to visit Sheogorath now?’ Derek asked.

‘Eh, sure.’

The next thing he knew he was standing in a misty clearing. There were three square, free-standing archways equidistant from each other around the perimeter, and at the center was a dining table laden with food. On one side was an older man, but then so was the man on the other side.

The one dressed in dual colours looked over and frowned. “Excuse me, Pelly my dear,” he said, then, “Who might you be?”

Harry smirked. “I go by many names, but for you—Yuki.” He morphed to that persona’s appearance.

Sheogorath eyed him curiously. “A thrill to meet you!” he said gaily. “Now how did you get in here?”

“I have my ways. Death is a close and personal friend of mine, and he suggested you would be the one to talk to for an idea I have. He also pointed out that I would probably have to manage an exchange of favors in order to get what I want.”

Sheogorath waved a casual hand at Pelagius, who immediately became disinterested, and replied, “An exchange, you say? How delightful. What is it you have in mind?”

“Well. . . .”

Some time later he was back in their room at the Bee and Barb. Tom had already fallen asleep, secure in the wards they had emplaced, so he resolved to share the memory later. With that he laid down and went to sleep himself.

The next morning they left Riften and headed north, enjoying the walk, fighting off the hostile wildlife that did not have enough sense to be scared into leaving them alone. Along the way they collected innumerable samples of flora, and even dug up a number of whole plants to store away after Derek assured them it would not have any negative effects on the ecology of Ophiuchus.

Some time was spent dallying at the hot springs along the way, and they reached Windhelm by evening. ‘Oh, look, I think I see some victims,’ Harry sent.

Two men were trash-talking a Dunmer woman. A check revealed that the ragged one was a former Stormcloak, having taken a sword thrust during his time as a soldier during the ongoing civil war, and had been reduced to begging by the injury. The other man was brother to the local jarl’s housecarl and second. Sheogorath’s deal involved driving at least two people crazy.

‘I think they’d work just fine,’ Tom sent. ‘Anyone who can waste his time drinking and threatening others sounds like a good candidate. And his friend there—he’d be an embarrassment to his brother.’

‘Right. Let’s go get a room at that inn over there and plan.’

In the morning they visited the marketplace and browsed the available wares, some shops, and spent some time in the Gray Quarter, mostly to familiarize themselves with the layout of the almost warren-like section of the city. They were alerted to the Aretino residence by local gossips and once they were satisfied they had seen most of what there was to see, they Cloaked and slipped inside. The entry was cramped and merely a staircase leading up. The interior was nice enough, he supposed, and as they climbed up he could hear the boy speaking.

“Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.” The child’s voice was strained and gritty. “Please. . . . How long must I do this? I keep praying, Night Mother. Why won’t you answer me?”

Tom advanced into the room the Aventus was in and stared intently at him, ignoring the requisite effigy of the victim. Harry had to wonder where and how the boy had gotten his hands on actual body parts to enact the ritual with.

“Die, Grelod! Die!” the boy said, repeatedly stabbing he effigy with a dagger.

‘Grelod regularly abuses the children in her care,’ Tom sent. ‘She complains incessantly that no one will adopt any of the orphans, yet refuses to let them be adopted.’

‘So she keeps them around to vent her anger and bitterness on,’ he hazarded.

‘Yes. The child has good reason to want her dead. Even though here he has to scavenge for food to survive, it’s better than being back at Honorhall.’

‘All right. Stay Cloaked. I don’t want him seeing both of us.’ Harry faded into view and walked just loudly enough for the child to register it.

Aventus jerked around and saw him, his eyes going wide. Then he smiled gleefully. “It worked! I knew you’d come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the—the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood.”

Harry arched a brow and said nothing yet.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aventus assured him. “There’s no need. You’re here, so I know you’ll accept my contact.”

‘Well, he is desperate,’ Tom commented. ‘And exhausted. Damn persistent, too.’

“My mother, she—she died. I—I’m all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she’s not kind. She’s terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you’re here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!”

Harry nodded slightly. He might not be an assassin, but he had every intention of killing the woman.

Aventus beamed wearily with joy and relief. “I have a family heirloom you can have. Supposed to be sort of valuable. I hope that’s all right.”

‘Like I would take anything from the boy,’ Harry thought. He moved in closer and gently removed the dagger from the child’s hand and set it aside, then ushered Aventus over to a bed and pushed him into it. To ensure that he slept, Harry cast a sleeping spell on him, then tucked him in under the sleeping furs.

Tom dropped his Cloak after they were back outside and a short distance away. ‘Tonight?’

‘Yeah. That’s when they go make the rounds in the Gray Quarter.’

They amused themselves until it was time for dinner, had a meal, and retired to their room, at which point they Cloaked and shifted out, to watch from one of the rooftops. He and Tom each took a target and started casting spells to disorient, heighten paranoia, and muddle their vision with illusions, plus sent in a few choice whispers of thought.

Several minutes of “treatment” later the two Nords began screaming at each other and it devolved into a brutal fight. Residents of the Gray Quarter fled the scene, not wanting to be caught anywhere in the vicinity. The fight kept edging closer and closer to the entrance to the town, Rolff driving Angrenor back up the steps and then past the Aretino house, and in the end, both men died near Calixto’s House of Curiosities. By the time the guards got there, alerted by the yelling, there was nothing any of them could do but question witnesses to the tragedy.

After they shifted back to their room and de-Cloaked, a translucent avatar of Sheogorath joined them. “It’s not quite what I had in mind, but you did succeed in making them temporarily insane with paranoia, so—right! In appreciation for your efforts I am gifting you a duplicate of an artifact of mine: the Wabbajack!”

A staff materialized in Harry’s peripheral vision, on his bed. “Glorious,” he chirped with a grin.

“It’s a favorite of mine,” Sheogorath said gleefully. “Now, I’ll act when I get the signal. Ta ta!” He faded out, leaving the two of them with just each other again.

They made it back to Riften by the next evening and rented a room at the Bee and Barb. ‘I’ll go in tomorrow briefly and get a look at the woman’s mind. I don’t honestly expect to find anything that would change my mind, but it never hurts to double-check.’

He did so the next morning and was close to appalled to see how the woman treated the children, and decided that Constance would make a fine “headmistress” in Grelod’s place. He rejoined Tom outside, jotting down a quick death for the woman—she would die of a heart attack during one of her rants shortly after they left—then wandered into the Jarl’s keep to “convince” her steward to sell him the property called Honeyside, despite him being a virtual unknown.

That taken care of, they investigated the property and found it to be decent enough, certainly for what he had in mind. He was speaking with Balimund when it happened. A loud crack sounded and he whipped around in time to see eye-searing, pink-tinged arcs of lightning reach down from the sky and incinerate Maven Black-Briar, who had been standing near Brynjolf’s stand. Balimund’s forge hammer fell out of his hand and bounced off his foot, causing the man to let out a choked cry of pain.

Brynjolf gaped at what had been the patron of the Thieves Guild; all that remained was a mess of bloody, burnt body parts and ash.

“Eh, perhaps we should continue our talk at a later time,” Harry said, and walked away when Balimund nodded. Right about then children came running out of Honorhall screaming in delight about Grelod’s death. That night before they went to bed Tom carved a Thieves Guild shadowmark at each door of Honeyside, having learned them from Brynjolf’s mind, to designate the place as being protected. On top of that the two of them set up anchored wards.

The next day the gossip had grown to include the death of Hemming Black-Briar. He had been “mourning” the death of his mother by drinking heavily at their meadery in town, but had unfortunately fallen into one of the large boiling vats in the lower level and simultaneously drowned and cooked. Sibbi Black-Briar choked on a honey-nut treat when he heard the news; the guards panicked in the face of his frantic gestures for help, and were unable to get the cell open quickly enough to save his life.

He and Tom exchanged a smile, then hastened off on their holiday, making sure before they left that a courier making the run to Windhelm would spread the news so that the Aretino boy would know it was “safe” to return to Honorhall and his friends. They ended up in Whiterun, having taken out any number of bandits along the way, not to mention hostile forms of wildlife, and settled in to explore a new city.

Along the way they had amassed quite a lot of raw metal due to ore veins and Harry planned to leave it at Honeyside when they returned there. Madesi was too good of a jewelry-smith to be left to live in that horrid place called Beggar’s Row. With a little patronage the man could really make something of himself.

That night he was woken from a sound sleep by Derek, who said, ‘Stay in bed for now. We have a situation.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Apparently, the Dark Brotherhood has heard that someone killed Grelod, and they assume it’s you.’

‘On what basis?’ Tom demanded, showing that he had been woken, too.

‘So far as their leader is concerned, my master did the deed. He was spotted by one of her informants leaving the Aretino house, and she died shortly after he left the orphanage; poison is suspected, amongst other methods. Astrid, the present leader of the Falkreath Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, is coming here to kidnap you, master. She plans to take you to a remote location and offer you a deal.’

‘What are the options?’

‘You have two, as presented by her. One is to let her kill you in retaliation for posing as one of them. Two is to kill one of the three people she’ll have waiting in the cabin, or all of them, at which point you’ll be extended an invitation to join their organization. The unvoiced third option is to blow her off and kill her.’

Tom scoffed very quietly. ‘If she’s that sort, even if you did kill one of them she would likely kill the remaining two for knowing too much.’

‘Yes,’ Derek confirmed.

‘Well, I don’t have any particular problems with the concept of assassins, not in general. But to get all pissy because someone would help that poor child when they wouldn’t? Because he had next to nothing to offer as payment? They obviously knew Aretino was trying to make a contract and ignored him.’

‘Astrid’s sanctuary does not follow the Five Tenants of the Dark Brotherhood, so she is technically a heretic under those terms. It is true that they do not have access to the Night Mother, or have a Listener, but she more or less disdains all tradition and is less than respectful.’

‘All right. So either we kill her as soon as she gets here, or I let her “kidnap” me and deal with it then.’

‘How about you freeze time when she enters the room so we can plunder her mind?’ Tom suggested.

‘I can do that.’

So they waited. The door opened soundlessly, a figure slipped inside, and the door was closed again. There was no noise coming from downstairs, so the residents of the inn had to be asleep. With no windows in any of the rooms she was going to have a time of it getting a body spirited away. But, as soon as the door was secured and the room was again dark, Derek acted to freeze the scene.

The two of them got up and pulled out fire-marbles to provide some illumination, then delved into her mind. ‘Oh, she’s a real piece of work,’ he commented. ‘She’s so arrogant it makes us look like ickle students of the art.’

‘What about the other assassins?’ Tom asked.

‘Eh, I think we’d have to go there in person and see what they’re made of. This one wants to take me clear across the country to an abandoned shack up north? Derek, are there others waiting outside?’

‘Her husband, Arnbjorn, werewolf. He will help her with the burden and ensure you all arrive safely, should you allow it to happen. They will, of course, drug you to keep you quiescent.’

He snorted. ‘Say, you know that prison we passed on the way here from Riften?’ he asked Tom.

‘Yes. Good idea. Derek, I think you can unfreeze things now,’ he sent as he produced his wand. The moment Astrid became aware again—and was startled due to there suddenly being light and two awake men—Tom nailed her with a sleep spell. She tumbled to the ground, which alerted her husband, and the door eased open again a second later.

Harry used his wand to haul the man inside and put him under. “Okay. Grab him, I’ll get her, and then we can shift.”

They floated their captives into the abandoned prison and inside, and down to an area with cells. Astrid was hit with a paralyzation spell before being woken, but Arnbjorn was tossed in a cell before being given the same treatment.

“So, cupcake,” Harry said. “You decided to come kidnap me based on the flimsiest of evidence? Without doing any research? Not knowing a thing about my abilities? Not very smart.”

Her eyes said what her mouth could not.

“You made a huge mistake, cupcake, coming after me, intending to force me into a decision of some kind. And for that? You die.”

Arnbjorn was struggling against the paralyzation and actually starting to win, so Tom nailed him with another spell.

“I think,” he said, “I will kill you with your own blade. That would be amusing. I hope for your sake that Sithis still welcomes you when you get there and he sees just how far you’ve strayed from the tenants.” He searched her roughly, coming away with an interesting looking dagger, and paused. “No, no, I have a better idea,” he said and turned to Tom. “You remember how Ciel told us all about his pet demon?”

“Yes, why?” Tom asked warily.

Harry stowed the dagger away as a souvenir and clapped excitedly. “I have the best idea! I shall be known as—” He paused to conjure up an ordinary-looking set of forks, tossed on a chef’s hat, then said dramatically, “The Forksassin!” Before Tom could do much more than blink Harry used the forks to shred Astrid’s throat and cause her to bleed out rapidly. “Mwua ha ha!”

Tom thunked his head against the nearest wall a few times.

Harry looked over at Arnbjorn. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used an actual weapon to kill a person. Now, as for you. . . .”

Tom stood up properly and nodded. “He’s the same.”

“Well,” Harry chirped. “I guess it’s time for you to die!” After Tom threw another spell to be on the safe side, he opened the cell and shredded Arnbjorn’s throat as well. The forks went into a pocket, and they returned to their room in Whiterun to sleep.

Over breakfast he said, “So, aside from checking out that minor detail, we are officially on holiday now.”

Tom raised a flagon of Velvet Lechance and nodded.


	6. Naruto

## 06 Naruto

21062015

“What excuse are you trying to sell me?” — Genesis, _No Reply At All_

* * *

“Say what now?” Harry eyed the screen, head tilted to the side. On it was a young child with gorgeous blue eyes, bright blond hair, and curious whisker marks on his face, sort of reminiscent of a cat or fox.

“As I said, this is Uzumaki Naruto, or Namikaze Naruto. He is the container for a demon, a ‘tailed beast’ as they call them. Specifically, Kyūbi or Kurama.”

“Nine tails?” Tom said. “I’m sure there’s a story behind such a designation.”

“Yes, and we’ll get to that. For now, what I’m after here is two things. First, I thought it might be interesting and educational for you two to visit the Elemental Countries and perhaps learn new techniques, or at least gain a new host of material to study. Second, while I do not want to overtly interfere with things that might be considered ‘necessary’, there is leeway to alleviate some of the upcoming strain on this child.”

“From containing the beast?” Harry asked.

“Yes, but not exactly. There is certainly strain involved simply in being a jinchūriki, with the attendant issues of the beast potentially trying to corrupt its host. I refer instead to the reaction of the villagers, more so the civilian population, though there are some ninja who are also negative toward the boy.”

Harry took on a nasty expression. It sounded far too much like some of the treatment he had suffered after Vernon and Petunia had sullied his reputation to all of Little Whinging. The townsfolk had not actively participated in the harassment, but some of their children had, and children were notoriously easy to brainwash, especially when a brainwashed cousin was right there egging them on. And then he grinned happily. “Mwua ha ha.”

“Gods above,” Tom muttered. “What now?” Their holiday on Nirn had resulted in him using some of the local phrases.

“I just had the best idea!” he chirped. “Derek! Just how, eh, flexible is my Death Note?”

Derek tilted his head in confusion, then straightened. “Yes, that would technically be a valid use.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Tom growled.

Harry grinned at him. “I just realized that I don’t have to kill all of a person.”

Tom’s brow furrowed as he worked that one out. “Oh. Oh yes, I see now. That’s devious, Harry,” he said admiringly.

He leaned over to give Tom a kiss. “You’re so sweet. I mean, sure, we could do it all manually, but there’s something poetic in the idea of using the Death Note to perpetuate a cycle rather than setting up a ton of warding.”

“What do you have in mind, then, if it’s not overt?”

“You can’t force people to enduringly change their minds with a snap of your fingers. But consistent and low-key reinforcement might—or at least prevent any overt nastiness. So if a person was to say something that fell into a set of defined examples, a certain kind of response would be engendered. If they attempted active violence, a different result.”

“So, karma.”

“Essentially, but far more certain and immediate, not waiting for samsara.”

Tom nodded. “So we need ideas on how to ‘punish’ people. . . . Perhaps Ciel would like to offer up some ideas? Or Luna?” 

Harry giggled quietly.

They arrived not too far outside a ninja village called Konohagakure no Sato, or Konoha for short, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, but not so close that they would immediately attract the attention of Konoha nin. “Well, it’s pretty enough,” he said in Japanese, as Derek had mentioned which language to use when he had created appropriate paperwork for them to carry around as identification.

They could, in theory, go in Cloaked, but where was the fun in that? And besides, they could save that sort of thing for “borrowing” information about ninja techniques. They had come such a long way from the world of their birth, and encountered so many different forms of magic. It was exciting to learn about new ones, and some of them they could even use, or replicate, which made the “meddling” Derek occasionally asked for on the order anticipated excursions. Well, the amusement factor that came from messing with people also counted.

Papers were shown at the village gates and they were allowed to enter without any real fuss, though they had Anbu shadowing them everywhere they went. After securing a suite at a hotel they began wandering the town, aiming for the shopping district. None of their alterations were set to start functioning until a specific condition was met, and that condition happened not long after they finished eyeing the wares of a stall selling carved figurines.

As they walked toward the next attraction Yuki was hit from behind. He quickly side-stepped and spun in place, then grabbed the child by the back of his shirt and hauled him up to eye level. “Hello there, chibi. Are you all right?” he asked, ignoring that the kid was squirming around and seemed ready to start kicking.

“Let me go!”

“No, no, not until I know you’re not hurt from that impact. Well?”

“I’m fine!” the child insisted.

“I see. Well, my name is Yuki. My friend here is Ango.”

The kid stopped squirming as soon as he realized the two men weren’t out to harass or hurt him, his eyes going a little wide. “Naruto!”

Yuki nodded. “Okay, Naruto-kun,” he said, intending to set the boy down. “Please try to be a little more careful in the future, yes? You could have hurt yourself.”

Just then several older boys came around a corner and spotted Naruto; their faces took on a malicious cast. “Ha! Look at that. The little bastard’s gonna get it now,” one of them said, then promptly tripped and scraped the skin off his nose when he face-planted.

“What a rude child,” Ango said quietly.

Yuki shifted Naruto so he was being held more properly instead of being suspended. “Tell you what. How about you give us a little tour of the village and in return we’ll buy you lunch, maybe dinner.”

Naruto looked wary for a moment, then beamed with pleasure. “Can we have ramen?”

“Sure,” Yuki said agreeably, then set him down. “We were looking at the shops. Any suggestions as to interesting things here?”

Over the course of the morning a good dozen or more people ended up having humiliating accidents in the vicinity of Naruto, always after they said something unkind, but never of a type that could ever be linked to the child. The watching Anbu were torn between laughing and hauling the two strangers off to T&I, because nothing so odd had ever happened before around Naruto. The boy’s pranks were always recognizable. There was no chakra release attached to the accidents, so they had nothing to go on.

Lunch was at Ichiraku, Naruto’s beloved ramen stand. It was easy to see why, as Teuchi, the owner, was genuinely fond of the little guy and happy to stuff him full of fresh-cooked ramen to ensure that Naruto got a filling meal as often as possible. The stand was very popular, though patronage dropped off during the time that Naruto was there, so Teuchi was well able to afford the generosity. Yuki, of course, happily paid for everything the boy ate during their lunch.

Afterward they continued their tour, and Naruto even showed them where he lived. Even though Derek had warned them ahead of time it took a lot of control not to break out into a round of swearing and threats when they saw the condition of the child’s apartment. It was bad enough he lived on his own now that he was in the academy, but to live in such bare-bones accommodations was just awful.

Naruto was surprisingly neat for a five year old. It was obvious he kept on top of keeping the place clean and did not let trash accumulate, but the idea of such a small boy being responsible for himself? It was possible the Anbu assigned to monitor Naruto assisted, but they were unable to intimidate the civilians into proper behavior, and the Hokage, while in control of the village as a whole—as it was a ninja village, not a civilian one—could not treat civilians the same way he could his ninja forces.

‘We will, of course, come back later and make some adjustments,’ Tom sent. ‘Nothing too obvious.’

‘I agree. The cycle should take care of most issues, but it wouldn’t hurt in the least to ensure certain aspects of his life in this apartment.’

‘Like properly functioning sanitary and cooking appliances.’

Harry nodded slightly. ‘Maybe ensure no vermin, but if the kid keeps up with being so tidy, that might not make much of an impact.’ “It’s getting on,” he said out loud. “How about we go have dinner? Maybe yakiniku?”

Naruto looked wary at the suggestion, so Yuki nudged into his mind and saw that the boy had not exactly been welcomed at the most popular place in town. “Don’t you worry, chibi. You’ve done a fantastic job today showing us around. You deserve a nice meal.”

Naruto bit his lip, then nodded, still thinking it would not turn out well, but willing to take the chance. Off they went, and true, the workers there looked as if they wanted to turn them away when they saw Naruto, but they were shown to one of the private rooms so they could take seats. Shortly thereafter they were supplied with drinks and plenty of meat for the grill in the table.

What Naruto could not know, but Yuki and Ango did (thanks to Derek’s commentary), was that more than a few workers suffered mishaps that evening as they said certain things or tried in some way to sabotage the food being delivered to their room, never mind that it would have punished two complete strangers in an attempt to get at the boy. The Anbu spying on them continued to be confused, and amused.

Later that night, after delivering Naruto safety to his home, they waited for some time before acting. Before they left the room was warded temporarily to avert any suspicion, and then they Cloaked and shifted to Naruto’s to set up what they had discussed earlier. After that they started in on the academy library, copying everything they could find to store away in Yuki’s fidelius’d trunk.

A visit to check in on the Hokage revealed other places of interest they would have to visit. ‘So much stuff to bring home with us!’ Yuki crowed.

‘And most of it will end up in a warded room or at Vault.’

‘Not the point! I want the best damn library in the multiverse if possible, even if we can’t use but a tenth of it.’

‘Yes, well, I estimate it will take about two weeks to make copies of everything.’

‘Mm. So we have two weeks of watching people have hilarious accidents and see if any of it starts to sink in.’

They ran into Naruto every few days and would buy him a meal. He lost all wariness around them after a few rounds of that. It helped that the child had not been unaware of the shift in the village, how people kept having incidents of extreme clumsiness, or worse. All he had ever wanted was a friend, or for people to pay attention to him in a positive way. There were very few who did, and they were usually busy adults with little time to spend with him. The two strangers were fun and nice.

‘Ah, hell,’ Ango sent. ‘He’s getting attached.’

‘You have to admit he’s adorable,’ Yuki replied. ‘Maybe we could take a holiday here every couple of years? Check up on him?’

‘I suppose so. It’s not like you can adopt him or anything. Trying to remove him from this universe would probably cause it to implode.’

Yuki giggled madly and shook his head when Naruto looked up at him inquiringly. “It’s wrong of me to laugh, but I had no idea pot holes could get so bad on a main street,” he said, nodding toward a villager who had stepped into one and sank to mid-calf, causing predictable results.

Naruto giggled as well at the sight.

‘It occurs to me,’ he sent as Naruto dragged them off to show them the Hokage monument from much closer, ‘that we may need to alter the wording a bit. If chibi here joins the academy he’ll end up in spars with other students.’

‘I thought you specified by intent.’

‘Yes. But what if one of the little blighters loses his or her head in a spar and the tone of things changes? The last thing Naruto needs is for his partner of the moment suddenly doing a face plant and breaking their nose, or toes, or even a major bone. And it’d be more than a little suspicious for it to happen if he goes out on missions and his enemies all end up subjected to a physical comedy routine.’

‘But hilarious.’

Yuki snorted and looked at where Naruto was pointing. The boy was telling them all about how he was going to grow up to be Hokage some day. “You’re going to work hard, yes?”

“Of course I will!”

Yuki hummed. “I see. You’re going to read everything and understand it? Practice really hard on your skills, like throwing weapons? Watch and learn from people sparring, or sneaking around?”

Naruto squirmed a bit at that; he was such a bundle of energy that he had something of a short attention span. Still, he was very bright, and had a nicely analytical mind when he focused.

Yuki crouched down and pulled the child closer. “It doesn’t matter so much what people see on the outside, chibi, so long as inside”—he gently poked Naruto in the chest—“you work really hard, so that when you need to you can show people what you’re made of, how much you’ve studied and practiced, and how well you take care of your things. How responsible and mature you can be. Just about anything can be a learning experience, if you just take the time to think it over.”

Naruto nodded.

“And don’t take rejection too badly. Even if you were the nicest person on the planet there would always be someone who wouldn’t like you, just because. You be on the lookout for some loyal friends, chibi, people you can count on, and people who can count on you.”

“Like Teuchi-san?”

He nodded and smiled. “That’s a start, yes. He’s lived here a long time, so he might have some ideas that could help.” He pointed back at the monument. “Just remember. If you want to be Hokage some day, you need to work hard, but always take some time to just play, too.”

“You’re leaving soon aren’t you?” Naruto said with a pout and wide blue eyes.

“Yes. We’re only here on holiday. But you might see us again, and if you do, I hope you’ll remember us.”

“I will!” Naruto promised passionately.

Harry stood back up and ruffled the boy’s hair playfully. “Now, lay it out for me. If you were going to play a prank involving the Hokage Monument, what would you do, how would you do it, and how would you evade being noticed as the perpetrator or being caught?”


	7. Harry Potter

## 07 Harry Potter

23062015

“I dreamt the impossible, that maybe things could work out right.” — Johnny Hates Jazz, _Shattered Dreams_

* * *

The images on the screen might have mystified Harry if not for one thing, that he had already met two people who looked alarmingly similar, though older. “Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel?” he guessed.

Derek nodded and aimed his laser pointer at the writing on the edge. “Yes. Much, much earlier in their lifetimes than what you encountered.”

He frowned. “Why so early, then?”

“Well, do you remember when you and Tom were waiting around that one time on a meddling mission for me and were watching television? That science fiction show, Stargate SG-1?”

“Uh huh,” he said, trying to figure out the connection.

“Do you recall the sarcophagi the Goa’uld used?”

“Ye—oh. Hang on. They all went increasingly batshit insane as they kept using them. Is there something different about the Philosopher’s Stone in the dimension you’re showing us?”

“Yes.”

Tom waved two fingers in the air and said, “I’ll bite. I recall Harry telling me that you can’t use a tainted sacrifice to create one of the stones. Did these two make that mistake and not realize it until it was too late?”

Derek smiled under that hood of his. “Precisely. By the time they did, they no longer gave a damn. Just like those Goa’uld they became increasingly arrogant, cruel, and so forth. Or they would, if we give them the opportunity to get very far. As you know, using a sarcophagus a few times poses no particular threat, but continued use does. This particular stone is the same.”

“So, these two could become psuedo-immortal cackling maniacs out to use the general public for torture, experiments, slaves, and whatever other depraved and sick-minded things they could come up with,” Harry stated. “So where can we come in? Or when?”

“That’s up to you, master. You can either be inserted before they use it to the point where they are lost and attempt to convince them to abandon the stone, or to make a new one without the impurities, or you can go later and arrange for their deaths.”

Tom shook his head. “No. Early on, then. To wait until later is to actively condone letting them descend into a madness that will shape the entire world negatively. I don’t always understand just how you view time and what you can see, but is it possible to get some kind of memories from you of what they’d turn out like, so that we could show them to these two, as a warning?”

“Yes and no, and I don’t think you’ll like why. I can give you two imagery, but not in the sense of ones you can pull copies of and share. It doesn’t work that way. What I see is both what is, and what could be. All things are equally possible. But, if I were to physically send you two to a point in time for that dimension where you could get memories it would lock it into place. If I then sent you to a point in that dimension where you could use those memories as proof, it would cause a timeline split and lock both into place.”

“Meaning we’d be responsible for that warped timeline coming into existence,” Harry said, “and the damage there would already be done. We could kill them once we had the memories, but that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Tom frowned and looked down. “Still early. Is the taint because they had no idea of the problems it would cause, or because they simply didn’t realize one of the sacrifices was tainted?”

“A little of both,” Derek replied.

“What’s the impact of just going in and whacking them, with no attempts to change their minds?”

“Surprisingly good, actually. They did a lot of research in most dimensions, came up with a number of useful discoveries, but I can’t say that anything they did was crucial to anything, really. And there were other people on the same track for some of those things, so it’s just as likely they’d still come about, just at different times.”

“You know, I am really kinda glad we made this world,” Harry said softly. “Because whatever fuck-ups we may cause here, it’s here, and not on an Earth with billions of muggles who would suffer for our mistakes. So we have some choices. One, we go in early and try to convince them of the dangers of their lack of care when it comes to sacrifices, and if they blow us off, kill them.

“Or two, we do our damnedest to erase all knowledge of the process they’ve come up with, except that people have been trying to come up with a Philosopher’s Stone since forever if the Chinese are anything to go by. Or three, we simply kill them. They haven’t technically done anything wrong yet if we go in before they start the process, so I’d feel kind of bad killing them preemptively, but I would if it’s the most viable option.”

“Let’s hash out a game plan,” Tom said.

“Who are you?” Nicolas growled as Perenelle readied herself in the background.

‘I wonder what people used for swear words back then,’ Harry mused as he eyed the two.

‘Does it matter?’ Tom asked.

‘Well, no, just. . . . Eh, never mind.’ “Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. You are Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel.”

“How did you get in here?”

“You, a wizard, would ask such a stupid question?”

“We have layers and layers of wards. No one should be able to get through them without permission,” Nicolas shot back.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You mortals are so touchy. Nothing bars Death.”

That sparked off a twenty minute shouting match which was only resolved when he and Tom forcibly bound the two and hauled them outside. Harry walked around so they could see the grass and flowers and trees within a certain range all wither up and die. “Would you like us to haul you off so you can watch me start a fucking plague and see thousands of people die?”

They ended up back inside and seated comfortably. Harry did not trust them to provide proper refreshments so he produced his own teapot and supplies, along with a selection of freshly-baked biscuits and tarts. Once Harry and Tom were set up—he did not bother to play “Mother” for the Flamels—he said, “So, the reason we’re here. Your work on the Philosopher’s Stone is one thing. I don’t have an actual problem with the fact that you plan to make one. I know every aspect of the process and—”

Nicolas jumped up in outrage and started shouting again.

“I learned it from you, cupcake, in another time and place. We’re not limited by the concept of time the way you mortals are. Of the sacrifices necessary, you must—and I stress this heartily—you must not use tainted people.”

“I know that!” Nicolas gritted out.

Harry arched an unimpressed brow. “Funny, word has it that you’re going to be careless and use a tainted specimen, thereby dooming this world to a dark age that lasts for a thousand years or more. I am telling you, right now, to be very, very careful. Because if you mess up, we will be back.”

He got up, gathered up his teapot and supplies and remaining nibbles, and the two of them shifted away.

They spent the next months wandering the world, seeing what life was like back then, before the separation had really gotten started. At that point it was a slow push toward keeping magic out of range of the muggles, as opinions had begun to turn sour.

Nicolas had almost finished his Philosopher’s Stone when Derek contacted them with the news, which sent Harry and Tom back for a visit. They faded into view and startled the hell out of the two Flamels, who obviously had not been expecting them to ever return.

“So, you went ahead and got careless,” Harry said dispassionately, staring at him intently and reading the information he needed from the man’s mind. “You didn’t even bother to check. You were so close to completing it that you stopped paying attention.”

“The stone will be fine,” Nicolas said.

“Oh, it can be completed, yes, but it won’t be fine. You let what I warned you about happen. If you complete that stone and start using it—it’ll be okay at first, but the more you use it the more you’ll damage yourselves. You’ll become monsters of the same ilk as those you used as sacrifices—worse, actually. Sort of like being a walking Black Plague, except it’ll be your magic and your hands doing the killing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tom shook his head slightly. ‘I say we kill them. His mind is—he’s just so stubborn. If we destroy the stone in its present form he’ll just start over, and I doubt he’d give more care to it than he already has.’

Harry looked over at his partner, then nodded once and pulled out his book and fountain pen. It did not matter if the two saw an anachronistic writing implement. He wrote in their names and watched as both suffered heart attacks and died within the minute. The book and pen were tucked away and they systematically went through every part of the house looking for anything pertaining to the process. All of it was destroyed, including the unfinished stone.

Then they went home.


	8. Kalpa

## 08 Kalpa

23062015

“There’s nothing wrong with my state of mental health.” — Men At Work, _Who Can It Be Now_

* * *

“What do you want to hear about?” Harry asked, perched on the edge of Ciel’s bed.

“I remember, when you came to get me, you said something about an alternate you who was so different. Can you tell me about that?”

He reached out to gently ruffle Ciel’s hair and make sure he was properly under the covers. “Okay. Back before we started making any trips—when Death was just introducing the concept—one of the examples he gave was another me in need of some help, a me who would die otherwise and leave that dimension’s Earth to go all to hell.”

“So you helped.”

He nodded. “It went a little something like this. . . .”

Harry waited patiently while Derek stuck some sort of screen up on the wall, then blinked when an image appeared, showing his own face—sort of. The Harry on-screen looked almost exactly like he had, with black hair and green eyes, but there were no glasses involved. His hair was longer and the scar on his forehead was nearly invisible.

“I think I prefer you with red hair,” Tom commented.

He grinned.

Derek split the screen into three sections. Harry took up the center. To his left was an image of Tom, and to his right was Viktor Krum.

“Eh?”

“This Harry is, through an interesting series of events, Hadrian Wyn Krum; Viktor is his husband. Tom is his . . . protector? Hadrian’s mother and father are alive, and he has a twin brother. After the attack that Halloween night, it was decided that Edward must be the Boy-Who-Lived, namely because Hadrian was in the adjacent playroom when the adults burst in. Hadrian was considered a squib for a long time and was eventually, after James continued to push the issue, left with Petunia.”

Harry growled quietly.

“No, no,” Derek said. “In this instance that was a good thing. I’ll get into the details afterward, but for a summary. . . . Petunia warmed up relatively quickly. Vernon was unhappy, but it wasn’t until Dudley displayed signs of accidental magic that he became openly abusive, even going so far as to hit his son. Petunia divorced him and he left.”

Harry relaxed. At least one version of his aunt had been a good woman, so presumably there were more of her type out there.

“Lily divorced James when Hadrian was eight years old and took custody, leaving custody of Edward to James, who was well on his way to spoiling the child rotten with the help of Sirius and Remus. Tom got involved. He had decided that he was meant to make the attempt to kill the children who might be his downfall, but that this action was his only part of things. Feeling responsible, he turned his focus toward protection and trying to figure out who the real threat would be. They ended up moving to Norway and the boys attended Durmstrang.”

“Oh, wow,” he said. “I wonder what that would have been like. Okay, so, how is it we’d need to intervene?”

“Things on Hadrian’s world are going to go to hell, so to speak. Without intervention he will die, and there will be no one to stop the real threat, not unless one of the gods decides to imbue another hero. A muggle will take his life with a gun.”

“All right. So you want us to prevent that. I wonder what it’s like to be shot?” he mused.

“Hadrian will be eighteen or nineteen when the incident occurs.”

“So he’s not a squib?” Tom asked.

“No, not at all, but he does have a smaller than average magical core. To compensate, he has two other abilities, both god-given. You see, his world is an incarnation of a planet in a universe where. . . .”

They were dropped outside the home of Barty Crouch Snr. He was there as Yuki, whereas Tom wore a face that was similar to his real one, but far enough off so as not to be recognizable, and his eyes were dark green. He was very fond of their Barty, and Derek had indicated that this Barty would be similar, if not the same, so they had agreed to rescue him from the clutches of his father.

In preparation for their self-imposed mini-mission, they had also, knowing this would end up shared in memory—because Tom Riddle was nothing if not suspicious as a rule—added some temporary tattoos on the backs of their hands, ones that had especial meaning.

They exchanged a look, then forced open a convenient window and slipped into the room, where Barty Snr had just finished imparting orders to his son after a fresh application of the imperius curse.

(“That’s the mind control spell,” Harry reminded Ciel, who nodded.)

‘Nice to know he’s the same asshole here as in our worlds,’ Yuki commented as he sent a spell to knock the father out, smirking at the sound of the man hitting the floor.

Tom went ahead and began to work on Barty Jnr, to relieve him of the effects of his father’s spells and to check on the state of his mind.

Yuki stepped over and crouched next to the father, reaching out with his left hand to force open one of the man’s eyes so he could playact using his wand for Legilimency while really just rifling through his mind the usual way. ‘Have to make it look good for our audience.’

‘Otherwise they won’t know what in hell we’re doing,’ Tom finished, doing the same with Jnr.

Several minutes later—again, for the sake of show—Yuki drew back with a smirk. 「Oh, what a prize this one is.」 ‘He’s the same as before, or so similar as to not make any difference.’

「And?」 Tom asked coolly.

「What a hypocrite. I say we steal the kid and deliver him to his master. Daddy here can flail around in a panic after he’s woken up to realize his biggest secret and shame is missing and might come back to haunt him.」 ‘I’m almost not surprised he’s managed this for so long. Is Barty’s mind all right after being under for so many more years?’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Tom assured him. ‘Once he sees this world’s Voldemort his recovery will be even faster.’ He nodded for the benefit of the intended audience. 「We can use the Dark Mark to divine the location of his master. We should probably take the elf as well. It is devoted to him.」

Yuki almost started giggling. ‘Oh, and won’t that upset the hell out of your counterpart! Imagine—some stranger able to use his Mark that way!’ He nodded, plastering a knowing look on his face. 「You’ll fix the bond?」

Tom went ahead and did the spell-work necessary to shift the house-elf’s bond to Barty Jnr only. It was delicate and precise work, and the level of control necessary meant that there was no leakage in the visible spectrum. ‘All right. Now to pretend to query the Mark. And this is actually amusing, the idea of driving my counterpart a bit crazy.’ He slid his hand up inside Jnr’s sleeve and let his hand rest on the Dark Mark he could feel.

Derek sent the both of them the necessary image for them to shift to, so Tom pulled away and nodded slightly. 「It’s in one of the national parks,」he said. 「Go ahead and fix his appearance. No point in setting him free if his looks will only get him in trouble. We can go back to fighting those interesting manifestations after we drop him off.」Then he aimed his wand at Barty again and knocked him unconscious.

Yuki worked quickly to fine-tune the changes to Jnr’s appearance, deciding to be whimsical and use the Malfoy men as a sort of template. After all, Lucius and Draco of this world were fairly valuable, so topically including Barty Jnr in their family was not such a bad idea. As he made adjustments he started wondering exactly how to deliver the man, and subsequently started giggling.

Tom paused in tinkering with Snr’s memories to eye him warily. “What?”

“Oh, just wondering how to deliver Barty. I was think a nice Slytherin-green bow on his head, like a present!”

Tom relaxed and shook his head slightly. “Right. If it makes you happy, sure.”

Yuki made a victory sign and finished up his work, then conjured a lovely big bow for Barty’s head and affixed it in place with a temporary sticking charm. “Adorable! Will you write up a note to go along with it?”

“Considering that your handwriting for the English language could still use some work, yes,” Tom teased.

He pouted briefly. Shortly thereafter they were ready to go, so Yuki grabbed on to Barty and Cloaked the both of them, while Tom got Winky, and they shifted to not far outside Riddle’s stronghold. Barty was situated on the ground, with the elf behind him, and Tom poked the wards repeatedly to alert the people inside to a visitor.

(“And then we went off to have some fun fighting,” Harry said. “We’ll use a pensieve for that part, okay?”)

“So, what exactly did you have in mind for the Wizengamot? I know that was an impromptu idea,” Tom said as they sat atop the Tower of London and stared out at the Thames and the Tower Bridge, charms swirling around them to keep the muggles from paying any attention.

“It was,” he admitted. “But then I asked myself, what would Luna do? So I started thinking of bizarre magical creatures that might be useful, whether they existed or not. I’m sure if I’d asked her she could come up with something within seconds, so. . . .”

“And what did you come up with?”

“Well, I decided on a magical termite that’s attracted to bad people, essentially.”

Tom snorted in amusement. “Of course. And naturally the Wizengamot is filled with self-serving and obstructionist idiots we can target.”

“Absolutely. Fudge, for one. Umbridge. That twat of an auror, Dawlish. Just a few to start with. We can go poke around in people’s heads during a closed session, decide who gets to suffer a freakishly bizarre accident, and then I can write it up. It won’t necessarily solve any problems overall, but it’ll set the Wizengamot back and allow for the possibility of some more moderate people to slither into position. After all, none of these people are going anywhere. Gellert is wreaking havoc all over the world, so the fewer idiots there are in the UK, the better. Far too many countries actually pay attention to the British because of that whole Empire and Commonwealth thing bleeding over from the muggles to the magicals.”

“So if you want to use termites, I suppose that means we’ll be seeing the ‘collapse’ of the Wizengamot’s structure.”

Yuki laughed merrily at the wordplay and leaned over to give Tom an appreciative kiss.

“And that was it, basically,” Harry told Ciel, who was looking awfully sleepy. “We went in and figured out who should go, and then arranged for a freakishly bizarre accident. I thought it was hilarious the way everything fell apart.”

Ciel smiled slightly and nodded. “You’ll show me the fighting later, right?”

Harry nodded and brushed a lock of hair away from the boy’s face. “I’ll even let you go into the memory so you get the full effect. But for now, time for sleep.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

He leaned over and kissed Ciel on the forehead. “Night.”


	9. Naruto

## 09 Naruto

22062015

“This could be messy, but you don’t seem to mind.” — Alanis Morisette, _Hands Clean_

* * *

Hidan was laughing; the sound sang of the glory in the pain shared between himself and his victim. Behind the victim was a shadowy figure that only Hidan could see, hovering several inches off the ground, a sign to him that his god was watching as the sacrifice was being driven mad by the pain and the knowledge that their life was soon to end.

He stabbed a blade into his kidney and watched as his victim—a Sand nin—dropped to the ground in agony, then laughed again when finally, he drove the weapon through his heart and watched as the enemy nin died. Hidan removed the blade and exalted in the rush of power and healing.

And then it all went funny. Through half-lidded eyes he saw a figure fade into view next to his god’s avatar. The figure reached over and grabbed the avatar by the neck, picked it up, and shook it like a misbehaving animal. “What the hell?” he shouted. “What are you doing to Jashin-sama?”

The figure stopped shaking the avatar and looked at him instead. Hidan jolted in place, arrested and actually intimidated by the sheer killing intent radiating from those glowing green eyes.

Yuki snorted and shook the Shinigami again, giggling when its neck snapped, though it healed in a split second. “Jashin-sama? No, no, this thing is not your god, Hidan.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This”—he shook the Shinigami again—“is a minion. One of Death’s minions. A Shinigami, though that term is misleading. He is no more Jashin than you are a five year old girl. This one’s been very, very naughty, leading you on like this, playing the part of your god. Shinigami are funny that way. They get bored when their entire job consists of ushering the souls of the dead to the afterlife.”

He indicated the dead nin with his free hand and ordered, “Take care of that one’s soul. We’ll speak later, but if I catch you playing the mortals again for your amusement I’ll obliterate you.” He dropped the Shinigami and watched as it hastened to do his bidding. As soon as it was gone he turned his attention back to Hidan, slowly walking closer.

“Weird things can happen when mortals start toying with Death and immortality,” he said, reaching up to gesture casually. Hidan was frozen in place, able only to move his head. It might not make him entirely harmless, but not being able to do any kind of hand seals or attack physically would certainly put him off his game.

“What the fuck?”

A brow went up. “You really like to swear, don’t you. Anyway. If anyone around here could be called Jashin it would be me, cupcake, and I don’t even know if you could call me evil. There’s some debate on that, actually. The thing is—” He broke off when Hidan started swearing again, long enough to silence him temporarily. “The thing is, you’ve managed to pervert the natural order with the help of that Shinigami. And, while I don’t give a damn that you love to kill, I do care when that means you slaughter innocent people simply because you can. Have any of the people you’ve killed actually done anything to you? Or did you kill them because they were handy?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hidan shouted. “It’s my right to kill whoever I fucking want!”

“Because you’re strong?” he asked.

“Because I can! Because Jashin-sama rewards me for it! Because I like it!”

Yuki rolled his eyes at such simpleminded statements. Hidan seemed to be at a Ron level of intelligence, though for the sake of fairness he had to admit the fellow knew how to fight, even if he could only barely strategize his way out of a wet paper bag. “So by that reasoning I could kill you right now because I can and I’d like it.”

Hidan scoffed. “Jashin-sama would protect me, you fool. And I’m immortal. You can’t kill me.”

Yuki grinned. “Really now.” ‘Derek, will you please remove the link between Hidan and that stupid reaper?’

‘Certainly.’

A few second later Hidan started screaming in pain, though it all came out a little oddly due to him not being able to inhale strongly enough to really get the proper volume. “What—what the hell did you do?” he gasped.

“Took away your immortality, little human,” Yuki said cheerfully. “Next time you get into a real fight, well, I’d be a lot more cautious. Because if you aren’t, you’ll be dead. And don’t be thinking your amusing little religious practices will work now. Try, if you like, but don’t expect to ‘share pain’ and end up healed when your prey is dead, because you’ll die, too.”

Hidan went off on a disbelieving rant while Harry idly inspected his fingernails.

“That’s wonderful,” he said when Hidan finally wound down. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there are a few more people I need to visit in the Elemental Countries, people who’ve done some really bad shit when it comes to messing with Death.”

He Cloaked himself and shifted to the next location on his mental list. Some sick fuck named Orochimaru was next, and after that, some fellow by the name of Kakuzu. Oh, and some guy named Danzo.

As for Hidan? He was dead within days, having tried to use Curse Technique: Death Controlling Possessed Blood.


	10. God Game

## 10 God Game

23062015

“She don’t mean no harm, she just don’t know.” — Jane’s Addiction, _Jane Says_

* * *

“This one is a very strange one,” Derek said. The image on the screen was of a young woman sitting at a computer. “Jane loves to play games, but she especially loves to play the The Sims, a sort of people simulator, though some would argue that it’s more about being able to build houses. Your mileage may vary.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “What is the issue?”

“Well, she’s been playing this game for years, though several iterations, and just recently there was a violent storm, plenty of lightning, and her house was hit while she was playing. The power went out, but something very peculiar happened. It should not have been possible, but her computer, while running this game, has opened a window into a real version of the world she plays. She’s no longer manipulating pixel people, she’s tampering with real lives, and she has no idea.”

“Can you tell us more about this game? Because I only ever saw a little of what Dudley used to play and it was nothing like a people simulator.”

Derek nodded. “Well. . . .”

“Oh my god, she’s such a fucking slut,” Jane muttered, directing the boy on the screen to walk away from a dark-haired female child in a red dress. “I don’t care if they’re supposed to get together and have Cassandra and Alexander. Besides, Cassie ended up with that manwhore who cheated on her in the Sims 2.”

‘Each of the pre-made sims have stories in their profiles, for the family and for each family member,’ Derek commented.

‘I suppose it’s one way spend time,’ Harry sent. ‘And I can see the appeal.’

“Ugh. The Altos. Nick dresses like he’s part of the mafia. And he never bathes!” Jane made a face at the screen. “How can he be family-oriented when he’s a workaholic? All that means is he tries to convince his snob of a wife to crank out more babies he’ll never have time for.”

‘Nick Alto has the hydrophobic trait,’ Derek sent, sounding slightly embarrassed for even knowing as much as he did.

“I know!” she said. “I’ll wait until he hits young adult and port Constance over from Riverview. She’s pretty. Who cares if her bio says she’s not interested in romance. Mortimer is a babe!”

They spent the afternoon watching her play the game, listening to her running commentary in an otherwise empty room, and amusing themselves by having a telepathic conversation. But then they finally saw evidence of what concerned Derek so much.

Jane had Gunther Goth throw a party and invite Nick and Vita Alto to it. A special room was added to the basement of Goth Manor and the Alto couple was lured into it, then the door removed. Jane started a fire in there and giggled madly as the two burned to death.

Harry let out choked little sound when Death appeared on the screen, carrying a scythe. The figure stared straight out of the screen for a moment, then carried on with reaping the victims.

‘Technically, that is an aspect of myself,’ Derek shared. ‘But yes, he is aware of you.’

‘That is creepy,’ Tom sent.

‘Players like to call him Grimmy and seem to adore finding ways to have their sims get pregnant by him.’

Harry groaned quietly. ‘Please tell me that won’t work for her.’

‘Of course not. But the fact remains that Sims players often indulge in killing off sims in their games for laughs, or because it’s part of some story they’re building or sharing, but she’s killing real people now, even if what she sees on her monitor is no different than from before the storm. The most she’s noticed is that their Artificial Intelligence routines seem to be better.”

‘Well, there is the obvious solution.’

‘Will destroying her machine in any way harm the worlds she now has access to?’

‘Yeah, like that coming across as some sort of horrible event like their sun going supernova or something?’ Harry asked.

‘No,’ Derek assured them. ‘If that’s what you want to do, it’d be fine.’

‘Right.’

At around two in the morning Harry stepped up to the machine and laid a hand on the case. ‘Sorry, Jane,’ he thought. ‘I know you’ll have to scramble to afford to replace this machine, but. . . .’ He sent a concentrated burst of pure magic through his hand and fried all the components, and most especially, corrupted the hard drives.


	11. Yvara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personally formatted e-book copies here: [.azw3](http://xo.grazhir.com/fes2ao/FeS2%20Add-Ons%20-%20Shivani.azw3) and [.epub](http://xo.grazhir.com/fes2ao/FeS2%20Add-Ons%20-%20Shivani.epub). If I ever add more to the set, the copies will be updated, of course.

## 11 Yvara

21062015

“Larger than life and twice as ugly. If we have to live there, you’ll have to drug me.” — ABC, _How To Be a Millionaire_

* * *

“Oh, wow,” Harry said. “Back to Skyrim?”

“To _a_ Skyrim, yes,” Derek replied. “This one has already passed its major crisis point in the fourth era, but there are two people who are set to make the life of that hero—”

“Sucker, you mean,” Tom said.

Derek ignored him. “—a mess. If you’ll recall there was a war going on in the Skyrim you visited. This war is a waypoint in a prophecy.”

Harry groaned and hid his face against Tom’s shoulder.

“A number of conditions were mentioned as waypoints, the last of those being something that had not happened in the Skyrim you visited. In this one, however, the final parts of the prophecy came to light, the hero stepped up, and finished things off.”

“You sound evasive,” Harry pointed out. “What final parts?”

“The World Eater awoke, the first son of Akatosh, the dragon Alduin. One of Alduin’s charming qualities is that he feasts on the souls of the dead in Sovngarde, both because he can and because it strengthens him. The war made for a lot of choices when it came to a snack. The hero did defeat Alduin and prevent him from eating the world and forcing a new kalpa, a new iteration, of that dimension’s world in question.”

“Oh, oh. Right,” Tom said. “We know this, sort of.”

“Yeah. We saw the results of Alduin not being stopped. Well, one possible result. I wonder how they’re doing,” Harry mused. “Maybe we should stop by again at some point.”

Derek shrugged and produced his laser pointer. The screen finally lit up with an image, and on it was a petite young woman, with dark blue, almost black hair, and very strange, red eyes. She was biting her lip in the image, so the fang poking out sort of gave away that she was a vampire. The image split to show a second face, and it took a moment for Harry to realize it was the same woman. But the second version sported flaxen hair in a different style, green eyes, and no fangs.

“Eh?”

“She has an artifact which alters her appearance. She used it, along with a particular set of armor, to disguise her identity while in the role of Dragonborn.”

“Ah,” Tom said. “Wanted to be able to return to her life after the fact.”

“Precisely. So, this is Yvara. Breton mage, mid to late twenties, civilized vampire, and the Last Dragonborn. I think you’d like her, actually. She’s relatively kind, has some interesting morals, one hell of a fighter, and sarcastic as all get out. Some interesting friends, too. The problem comes in with relation to her and the role she has tucked away in a closet somewhere.

“There are two relevant organizations, the Greybeards and the Blades. The former are pacifists and devotees of the Way of the Voice, led by Paarthurnax, and the Blades are guards and guardians of any dragonborn, as well as dragon slayers.”

“I see where this is going,” Harry said. “This Yvara has already done her job and she’s gone back to her life, but the Blades want Paarthurnax dead, simply because he’s a dragon. We never met him or anything that time, but he’s obviously an upright guy if he’s been on the side of people for gods know how many thousands of years.”

Derek nodded. “That is the essential issue here. The Blades have plans, and those plans are in no way good for Yvara. Now, these two,” he said, switching the screen to display two new images, “are who we’re interested in.”

They popped into Skyrim outside Riften again, Cloaked. It seemed Yvara was extremely good friends with her Brynjolf and frequently stopped in to visit. She also had a serious case of wanderlust and never stayed anywhere for longer than a few days, a week at most.

“Right, let’s go poke around in some minds,” he said. “I’ll take her, you take him, and then we compare notes?”

“Certainly.”

Neither of their targets were visible in the market, or in the Bee and Barb, so they headed down to the lower level of the canal and into what was called the Ratway. They eventually got to the “tavern” down there, nominal headquarters of the Thieves Guild, only to realize the two weren’t there, either.”

‘Damn it.’ He felt a faint surge of magic coming from Tom.

‘They’re outside the city, roughly north-east.’

‘Okay, let’s shift back to outside the gates and go from there.’ A relatively short time later they came upon a bizarre little house shrouded in a flowing bubble of warding. A quick check showed that it hid the place from anyone but Yvara and whoever she decided to let in. They found the two inside the mushroom part of the dwelling, sitting in some woodsy chairs and drinking mead or blood while conversing.

Once they had what they wanted they shifted to an abandoned house Harry had seen in Yvara’s memories, in Windhelm. A quick check showed the place was still abandoned, so they set up some warding to keep the curious out and away, and faded back into view.

“Okay. I have to say, Yvara has the deepest loathing possible for Delphine, and her opinion of Esbern isn’t much better. She’s not exactly fond of the Greybeards, but they only engender irritation or annoyance from her. Think of Delphine as a bit like Dumbledore, only more openly ruthless and uncaring, and more than willing to get her hands bloody.”

“Sounds charming,” Tom said with a grimace. “This Brynjolf is a personable fellow. Charming, witty, aware of his limitations, and with very few illusions. He greatly dislikes the Blades simply based on what she’s told him. Well, that and she’s given him no reason to believe she’d lie, about much of anything, really.”

“Well, I have the imagery we need, so breaking into the temple is no problem. Once we’ve poked around there we can hash out a game plan.”

The visit to Sky Haven Temple went well enough, if Harry becoming incensed was a good outcome.

“She was seen leaving Whiterun on the back of a dragon!” one of the recruits enthused. “It was pretty showy from what I’ve heard. My friend there couldn’t stop talking about how everyone says Alduin is dead now.”

“Yes, she did it,” Esbern said quietly, “just as the prophecy said. I knew she could, believed in her, but I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“No one has seen her for some time,” a different recruit said. “That armor is pretty distinctive, after all.”

Delphine frowned and pointed out, “She might not be wearing it. We’d have heard if she’d gone back to High Hrothgar, and I just know she won’t be able to resist using her power for very long. There are too many dragons around for her not to get involved.”

Harry thought the look on her face was just too smug at that pronouncement.

“And once she does,” Delphine continued, “we can go after her, bring her back here, and . . . convince her of the rightness of our cause. It’s a damn shame none of us can get up that mountain ourselves.”

“Why not?” asked a recruit.

“Because,” Esbern said, “it is protected by arcane magics, a storm which disintegrates any and all who attempt that journey. Even if we could sneak past High Hrothgar to the start of the path, it would be a pointless and fatal endeavor. The only one who can go is the Dragonborn. She has let foolish sentimentality for an offhand deed cloud her thinking.”

“Right,” Delphine said briskly. “So we need to find her and explain the situation better. Then, after she’s handled the issue of Paarthurnax, we can get back to other things, such as accompanying her to put those dragons back in their graves permanently, and perhaps move on to seeing about finding ways to deal with the Thalmor.”

Back in Windhelm Harry amused himself with gouging some spectacular scars into the stone walls before settling down.

Tom nodded. “She’s a real piece of work.”

“At least my original Dumbledore didn’t actively want to torture me until I wholeheartedly believed in the Light’s ethos,” Harry said, kicking a wooden chair across the room. “But this Delphine does seem to think that Yvara is her personal property and weapon to do with as she pleases.”

“And she’ll keep it from the recruits so that none of them get squeamish, and all they’d end up seeing is an agreeable and docile Dragonborn.”

Harry started giggling. “Yeah, because vampires are such sweet and self-sacrificing people, and this one isn’t a one-woman apocalypse. Really now, Delphine and Esbern have been alone and on the run for far too long if they think these kinds of tactics will get them what they want. So, since I found a lot to like in Yvara’s mind, I vote we go ahead and take care of this little issue for her.”

“Agreed. We have two options, as I see it. The Forsworn, or the Thalmor. Unless you want to turn this into a comedy of errors like the last time.”

He shook his head. “I’ll try to be more serious this time. Though,” he said, tapping the side of his face thoughtfully with an index finger, “which would be more interesting? They wiped out the Forsworn at Karthspire to get in originally, but they’ve not really bothered to do much in the way of protections. They brought in some people, yes, but the Forsworn keep encroaching and they use them as training exercises for the recruits.”

“Sending in the Thalmor directly would be much more obvious, but perhaps we could maneuver it so that they are the ones who prompt the Forsworn? After all, Delphine and Esbern so very foolishly showed up at the peace council and revealed not only their names but where they were hiding. Did they honestly expect the Thalmor to be selectively deaf?”

“So. . . . Maybe we should poke around in Elenwen’s head first, see if she’s already planning something,” he suggested.

Elenwen was planning something, which was hardly surprising. But her plans were very nebulous at that stage and subject to approval from Alinor. Harry and Tom decided to both help her out and get her in trouble at the same time.

Elenwen, in an uncharacteristic fit of recklessness, had her agents stir up the Forsworn in the Reach like a nest of angry bees by sending in Thalmor disguised as Blades to selectively kill a fair number of the hagraven leaders and their briarhearts. This would eventually result in Elenwen being recalled to Alinor for “re-education” when a jealous underling reported her activities to the higher ups.

The Forsworn reacted predictably to the incursions and their hagravens began to hold meetings to discuss how best to respond. They were still smarting over the massacre at Karthspire and the continuing death sentence for any Forsworn who dared to try to reclaim their encampment. But this—this drove them incandescent with fury—that the Blades were not content to lord over their temple, but instead seemed ready to exterminate the natives.

Harry’s most basic contribution was writing up deaths for Delphine and Esbern, if only to ensure they did actually die during the upcoming attack. The last thing anyone needed was a broken and psychotic Dragonborn running around in the world, so those two had to go.

When the big battle came the Forsworn came at Sky Haven Temple from all sides, having worked hard to scale the cliff at the back and sides. They coordinated by using sounds pitched too high for the normal ear to hear, but briarhearts and hagravens could hear just fine. It was night, and all within the temple were sleeping aside from Esbern, and he was lost in his research.

Once all of them were in place, the bulk of the forces eased through the doors at the back from the courtyard. A lone Forsworn was sent on down the far left stairs to sneak to the front entrance in order to alert the ones there that the action was about to begin, so that they were not caught off guard by anyone trying to escape.

One third of the main force moved into hiding places overlooking the main room. Esbern was seated at the conference “table”, books, rolls of paper, charcoal, ink, and quills scattered around, and he was deep in a some tome or other, barely aware of his surroundings.

The remaining two thirds of the force headed down the far right staircase, to get to the room set aside for sleeping and cooking. Then all hell broke loose as the Forsworn lost their restraint and erupted into war cries. Esbern was startled into awareness, his book flying off a distance away, and he barely managed to get spells readied as a horde of Forsworn boiled over the top of Alduin’s Wall with his death in mind.

It was glorious. Harry could not say he particularly liked the Forsworn, though perhaps his perception of them was biased due to Yvara sharing common ancestry with them and still being a damn target, but watching them in action was wonderful.

Esbern had his head smashed open against the central part of Alduin’s Wall, blood and brain matter splattering all over the dragon carved at that spot. They left his body to crumble to the ground. Delphine ended up killed by several opportunistic Forsworn who used the armory’s supply of Blades katanas to skewer her. And then some of their mages used flames to heat up the metal so it would travel along the weapons and cook her from the inside.

The recruits, well, they were just cut down as quickly as possible.

Harry giggled madly and clapped at the show, then he and Tom “encouraged” the Forsworn to vacate the premises, taking only their own dead with them, and to never return to the temple itself or the courtyard out back.

“That went well, I think,” Tom said into the eventual silence.

“I think so, too,” Harry agreed. “Hey, while we’re here, what do you say to us setting up some pranks at the Thalmor Embassy?”

“Sure.”


End file.
